


Episode 2. Unbreakable Litany

by Aintzane



Series: Small Fish in a Big Pond - Volume One [3]
Category: Warhammer - All Media Types, Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-26 00:34:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14988899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aintzane/pseuds/Aintzane
Summary: The Adeptus Mechanicus are never open about their business. If anything suspicious ever leaks out, it always becomes a matter of consideration for the Ordos, especially when more strange relics and materials are discovered by adventurous tech-priests.Volentia is sent to investigate massive data clearings on a forge world only to find herself amid even bigger mysteries and threats.





	1. Prologue

Auriglobus didn't look like a forge outpost anymore after a hundred centuries of desolation. The Mechanicus had only started to explore and develop it when the Heresy broke out and cut the whole newly discovered sector from the Imperial space. The few factories were but decaying metal carcasses overgrown by moss and shrubs.

Magos Tetraodon had led his Explorator Fleet to this abandoned system ignoring the scepsis of most seasoned colleagues. Few of them believed the data archive could have survived the millennia in the proximity of the Eye of Terror and warned him about abominable intelligence and warp-corrupted STC. Some supposed the world had been taken over by notorious Hereteks or merciless Necron armies.

As the rumours of another Black Crusade spread over the Segmentum, many of his fellow tech-priests had turned their attention from lost technologies to the mysterious blackstone. Tetraodon was curious about the ancient secrets but he was naturally more inclined towards practical matters. He hoped the storage could provide the defenders with better armaments or transports.

He landed near the ruined remains of the main citadel with four younger Adepts, a group of Skitarii Rangers and a force of exploration servitors. The resources he had managed to get for the expedition were scant, and he had to finish the job quickly before the enemy could notice the activity.

The outer wall had collapsed centuries ago but the inner wall around the data storage was almost intact. Halls vast as a basilica nave contained countless dataslates and flash drives, and Tetraodon hoped at least some could be activated and read.

While the Adepts were sorting and deciphering the most important information, Tetraodon ventured to the old mines with the Ranger Alpha. The world had been defined as safe, its forests and plains populated by creatures no bigger than small animals and birds. Orbital scanning hadn't found any traces of sentient life presence besides the ancient ruins.

Chi-Zeta was the least annoying companion Tetraodon could ever imagine. He had nothing organic but his original brain, and Tetraodon approved of the fact he wasn't brainless in any sense. Calm and detached when out of battle, he had an interest in technoarcheology and could assist the tech-priest and even engage in intellectual conversation.

'Real peace of mind,' Tetraodon stopped on top of a grassy knoll and focused his augmetic eye on the angled sides of a large quarry. 'We'll dig up a few stones here and there without fuss and nerve-racking. Sunlight, fresh wind, a paradise of a job, Omnissiah be praised.'

'The spreadsheet is ready, Magos,' Chi-Zeta's mechanic voice was impassionate and firm.

'Good that I've taken but you along. No mindscrewing, no show-off. Just imagine, they planned to enlist this nuisance Mitrus to my expedition. Not only I didn't need a Biologis but my neuronal microchips would have been overloaded if I had to listen to the same stupid nonsense about mouse guts for entire hours. He's presenting himself as a young prodigy and workaholic just because he's spending days drying mouse crap.'

'Mitrus lacks discipline to control his emotions,' the Alpha nodded. 'His supervisor does most of the thinking job for him.'

'A third wheel in every expedition unlike you. Let's try the very bottom of the quarry. It's been eroded since. I'm just gonna check a hypothesis.'

They'd tried about twenty cracks in the rock till Tetraodon extracted a tiny black spall.

'Just look at the subtle iridescence. Might be not a pylon shard, but a natural outcrop. I'd never venture to search for blackstone alone but missing a good opportunity wouldn't be practical. Many ways to use it, they say.'

'That's up to the Magos Dominus.'

'Most think that pylons block warp influence, but the world has been cut off by a powerful warp storm.'

'I've heard blackstone can amplify the influence as well.'

'That's the reason why I've always thought you're smart. If only you were a bit more inventive.'

'Incoming call, Magos,' the Alpha interrupted him.

'Colonel Buch on the line,' a gruff voice sounded from the vox dynamics. 'The system is under Chaos assault. The 17th Uebotian Regiment under my command has been intercepted by the enemy in the warp, and we're in need of emergency landing. I propose you to join efforts till Imperial reinforcements arrive.'

'It's always like that,' Tetraodon sighed and switched to the expedition vox channel. 'Give out necessary instructions, Chi-Zeta, while I'm extracting a few more exemplars.'


	2. I

We met the first day of spring on Uebotia. It was Saint Botia's day, the most important of local holidays, and countless pilgrims from the entire sector had arrived to celebrate the memory of the saint's arrival to the once desolate region. An unyielding defender of the dwindling human colonies, she had managed to repel the pitiless Dark Eldar and secure the sector for the Imperium, and it bore her name ever since.

We arrived to the main cathedral early in the morning before it was packed by devotees and loiterers. The dawn was cold but puffy clouds rushing across the sky already looked like spring. Uncle offered his arm so I could lean on it but I shook my head. The leg had almost healed, and I needed to exercise to be in working shape again. Involuntary idleness cast me down. I had to cease the investigation before it was completed, and Pimenta, the last conspirator, was still roaming the galaxy in search for other means to fulfill his heretical goals.

The ornate doors of the great temple were open, and a few early birds like us were listening to the solemn chants of assembled Sisters. Every year the Order leaves their shrine homeworld to join the capital in prayer. We stopped before a giant statue of the saint in the center of the square. The mighty Canoness gazed upon the place from her high pedestal decorated by festive garlands of red lilies and silvery ice roses. I folded my hands in the sacred sign to ask for her assistance in our coming ventures. Sister knelt, her eyes filled with tears. Each of us had their own wounds no one but the Emperor or His saints could heal.

'How's your leg? Still hurts?' Uncle asked anxiously when we sat down on a long bench at the temple wall.

'Fine,' I answered assuredly. 'I should have replaced it with a steel one just to never hear questions like that.'

'Health is important, and it's hardly useful to ignore it. You do want to return to your job.'

'We've wasted a whole month here. Slacking and wallowing. Rourke's ship has been given to another inquisitor while I was limping around.'

The injury had taken away an only chance to bring down our travel costs. We lived in the owl parked in a suburb trailer park, bought simple cheap food but the biggest share of my wage still had to be saved for the pockets of greedy captains.

Corydoras and Plodia were away on a mission, and we had to rely on ourselves. Though successful, my first case had left a sad aftertaste. A dramatic end of a nostalgic camaraderie that let me feel the rift between the Inquisition and common people. Being a simple acolyte like Uncle still let one maintain friendly relations, yet a full-fledged Inquisitor had to trust one's closest circle only if anyone at all. I could only hope my friends would stay true in future.

Direct contact with psychic corruption had been even worse. I'd eagerly given up the generally useless but very disturbing ability if it was possible. It gave little advantage with constant vulnerability. One burst of irritation or a moment of untimely distraction could ruin a longtime work. I did regular psychic exercise to master my mind as Acrolux had taught me despite the growing disgust of the warp.

Cathedral bells rang out, and a procession of Sisters in ceremonial robes carried out the saint's holy banner. Canoness Modesta, surrounded by the most decorated veteran Sororitas, held high the flag, and the devotees gathered on the square all greeted her with the sign of the Aquila. The first rays of the rising sun shone on the gilded domes and tall vitrail windows. We joined the procession along with the others.

Levels of polished metal roofs glistened like a sea of molten gold through the morning mist underneath. Thousands of church bells echoed from every district of the hive city. More and more worshippers were coming to the square as the public service was about to begin. The procession marched around the cathedral and stopped before the doors chanting a hymn to the Emperor's mercy.

Novice Sisters stood on both sides of the entrance with big baskets. When the procession entered the temple again, I took a silvery candle from a basket along with the other pilgrims. I stepped into the brightly lit nave and found a place at a side column, gazing with awe and hope at the majestic figures of saints on the cathedral walls.

On the way home we dropped in to a small street eatery with free network to send holiday greetings. While still in the center, we'd visited a post office and sent an astropathic message to Plodia, Corydoras and their retinue. The eatery was packed with the weirdest tourists and devotees, and nobody showed any interest in our shabby company. Angel had already accommodated to everyday life outside the fortress-monastery but still felt shy in the crowd. His desert homeworld didn't have even small towns, and he'd moved from a nomad truck right to the golden cage of Arx Angelicum. Ample free time as well as absence of upholding daily routine were somewhat shocking to get used to.

'Captain Aphael would be surprised if he saw me eating sandwiches in a downtown refectory,' he looked around, a bit embarrassed.

'First Space Marines wouldn't feel confused in your place,' Fluffster chuckled from under the red hood of his ceremonial Magos robe. 'Their gene-sires didn't hide them from common people. They let him grow up properly.'

'Come on, the boy's nice and capable,' Uncle said back. 'That's what being grown-up is.'

'So why do you often speak in the third person in his presence? You call him boy, and he's twice as old as you.'

'All the three look like my late kids. You probably haven't had any, as most of your rusty kin.'

I didn't take part in their argument. When the last greeting was sent, answer notifications started flickering in the inbox menu. I opened the topmost message from Lady Fungata, my curator from the conclave. She was famous for being law-abiding and pious, and her postcard was a pompous image of Saint Botia's victory over the Drukhari, followed by a lengthy devotional poem. To my joy, the message contained a familiar-looking attachment.

'At last,' I smiled. 'Looks like they've got some job for us.'

'Back with renewed vigour,' Uncle nodded. 'What's up there? They've found Pimenta?'

'No, but still fine. Data clearings on a forge world. That's because I've got you, Fluffster. You'll teach me how to deal with tech-priests.'

'Strange they haven't sent someone from Ordo Machinum or just haven't solved that by the sole interference of the Lords Dragon,' the cricetid grunted. 'It's all messed up nowadays.'

'I guess because that's urgent and I'm the closest operative with a tech-priest in my team,' I said.

'We're lucky, aren't we?' Uncle growled anxiously. 'Let's see if we can find any bucket when the pilgrims start leaving the planet after the holidays.'

'Inquisitors don't ask. They demand,' Fluffster slapped on the table.

'Only if they're grandiose, like High Lords from the conclave. But they usually have entire fleets of their own. And we're a band of hobos in an owl,' I shook my head.

'Nowadays, people seldom respect officials, even as high as Inquisitors,' Uncle sighed. 'Everything is truly messed up.'

We managed to hire a vessel a couple of days later. The ship captain, Lady Melitara, belonged to the same rogue trader cartel as Plodia's father, and she showed us respect worth our office. Uncle had insisted that we all donned our best garbs to represent the importance of our duties. A strict and prim woman in her third hundred, Melitara kept her ship perfectly clean and her military-looking coat flawless.

Unlike many trading captains, she didn't even try to screw us and accepted the minimal price without arguing.

'You're welcome, Lady Volentia. It's an honour to assist you in eradicating heresy from our sector.'

'I have to warn you the trip is very likely to continue even after the investigation in the factory.'

'I've got enough money to never care about a few months spent on a sacred mission,' she replied firmly.

The way to the factory world took a week, and every evening I joined the captain on the bridge. She was overseeing the work of officers and sailors from her command throne with auspex screens above her head. She never allowed herself to be slacking or idle, and even in the brief hours of rest she was reading treaties on strategy or history.

Needlework was the only habit I kept from the earliest years of my life, and I'd bought some yarn before departure. A useful pastime during long warp travels. The forge world had a harsh climate, and another scarf or tunic would come in handy. Melitara was quite interested when she noticed that.

'I haven't seen knitting Inquisitors yet, my lady. Only a Malleus lady who was embroidering devotional banners, but that was a century ago.'

'They taught me to knit in the orphanage, Lady Melitara.'

'Nostalgic. I grew up in an orphanage as well, but I haven't had an opportunity to refresh my knitting or sewing skills during the last decades.'

'Wonderful how you've reached such heights, my lady,' I was truly impressed by her brilliant career.

'I've had many years of work. Late Interpunctella, the father of the present head of the cartel, needed young captains to deliver his goods when he decided to try selling bakery.'

'You know the family well then. Their daughter and heiress, Lady Plodia, saved my life when my mentor died.'

'The old Interpunctella's son is almost a century younger than me. He made his first trip, got a company branch of his own, got married right in front of me and my cartel peers. A good man, industrious and hospitable, a true father for his clan and his cartel. An old family, one of the first to support Imperial rule in this once backwater place.'

'Lady Plodia told me they'd broken through perilous warp storms on Saint Botia's call.'

'They were a small rogue trader dynasty, the only one that wasn't afraid to deliver food to the impoverished settlers. The first Interpunctellas battled Dark Eldar raiders and daemonic influence, and the present generations deal with stock house rates and abundant meals.'

'Yet their daughter has chosen the noble way of defending Mankind from the most horrible of foes,' I said seriously, startled by the bitterness of her tone.

'You admire Plodia because you don't know what kind of person she used to be in her younger years, before she met that nobleman from Luna. Though quite smart naturally, she was spoiled by her all-forgiving parents. Mounts of gold, permissiveness, baby talk. Her father paid a lot just to let her have her university diploma, and the more they fussed with her, the more she despised them. What indecent friends she has even on Uebotia.'

'I know a friend of hers, Lady Dolbona Svoa, a rogue trader from the same cartel as you.'

'A remarkably impudent and hare-brained person,' she replied harshly. 'She pays no respect to our rules and her superiors. Her husband, a regimental Commissar supposed to maintain discipline and be an example for the soldiers, smokes drugs she smuggles to the disposition of the regiment.'

'But Lord Corydoras deems his wife worthy of her present high office,' I tried to defend my lifesaver.

'Because of her genes, not her personality. Only one in billions is born blank, let alone a fully capable pariah. Plodia's level of blankness is quite moderate but even that makes her precious for your Ordo. But for her natural ability, she'd have been executed long ago.'

'Why so?'

'Well, everyone pretends to have forgotten, but Plodia's infatuation with all things Chaotic was an open secret for anyone except her naive and pious parents. She concealed tainted artifacts between boxes of frozen cinnamon rolls, took part in disgusting rituals. She traded corrupted scrap-metal from Warsmith Limax, some even whispered. There was a great scandal when Lord Astronotus detained her in one of nearby sectors and had a corrupted shard extracted from one of her teeth. Her null aura had neutralized it completely though.'

'Skeletons in the cupboard,' I sighed in confusion.

'It's useful to know your bosses are not saints. At least Plodia's enthusiastic meddling in Chaos worship did more harm to heretics than to herself.'

'My Magos told me exactly the same during my last mission. A pearl with daemonic essence within turned a staunch High Inquisitor into filthy Chaos spawn.'

'You're too young to have your own skeletons aplenty. All I can advise you - you'd better not try anything even remotely radical. First you use xeno weapons, next you break bread with worshippers of the Ruinous Powers, then you're tempted to get a daemon for your service. I've never approached a xenos or a heretic in my life, and I'm going to stay away from their impurity even when dark times come.'

'Lord Platydoras expects the Despoiler to attack in a couple of years.'

'I've said it for countless times already, but old fool Interpunctella still doesn't believe. During the last Black Crusade the sector came out barely harmed at all, but this time we have to expect the worst. If Cadia falls, the traitors' path to Terra will go right through our poor sector. When the storm gathers, let you or any of your colleagues help Plodia's parents. They won't have the guts to leave their cozy mansion.'

Puzzled after the talk, I decided to ask Fluffster a few questions in private. The cricetid's reaction was surprisingly impassive.

'Lady Melitara has given me access to the Machine Spirit to assist her novice enginseer. I'm more than aware of everything that happens on board.'

'I can't believe these revelations,' I admitted. 'Lord Corydoras and Lady Plodia look like flawless operatives, both smart and devoted. With a close-knit team of professionals.'

'The captain's right,' Fluffster sighed. 'My friend Peachy has known them for longer than me, and his opinion is far from flattering. Plodia's heretical ambitions almost killed Corydoras in the very first week they met.'

'Did she really trade forbidden goods?'

'For years. And for now, she pretends she's pious and educated, he pretends he's strong-willed and formidable.'

'Let past be past unless it messes into our business,' I decided. 'I hope at least Lord Platydoras is a decent man. Fungata pretends to be one, but no one really likes her in the conclave.'

'Corydoras and Platydoras are both spoiled noblemen from Luna, and will retreat to Segmentum Solar once things get too hot. Remember what he was doing last time you saw him?'

'That was only once. Lord Corydoras led me to his office during the break, and Lord Platydoras was browsing colours of marble tile. He is fond of gardening, I heard.'

'He's building a lovely country house on a volcano ready to erupt. A neat garden for the Despoiler to spend a pleasant day in before proceeding to Terra.'

'We'll take that easier because we hardly have anything to lose.'

'Your plans for the future. Your career, most likely. Your friends. Your life, even though you don't value it too much.'

'Only in death does my duty end,' I smiled. 'Just don't die before I do. I've already lost many people I cared for.'

'Even if so, we'll meet again at His side. Just don't copy the worst sides of your superiors.'

'I have to find my own ways to do my work. Last time's experience showed me what heresy looks and smells like.'

'Pray to the Emperor this case will be just old plain fraud. My own kind of machine-worshippers is capable of things worse than Aphedron Pansexualis can ever imagine.'

'No worse than Imudon's intrigues.'

'Just keep in mind the Inquisition is never welcome in the domain of tech-priests. If they find out who you are, they can get rid of you, and if the sub-sector Magos Dominus is in, they won't even investigate a seemingly random crash, or explosion, or a servitor malfunction.'

'Many senior inquisitors blamed me for not looking imposing but my looks are an advantage here like in the cafe. Nobody pays attention to a nondescript girl in plain clothing.'

'That's why Ordo Hereticus fits you perfectly. To keep a low profile till the very moment.'

On that night I couldn't sleep for long thinking about the gathering storm hardly any ordinary citizens noticed at all. The only reason behind my speedy promotion. Platydoras had received many secret reports from his Malleus connections, and the staff had been greatly increased during this year. Obscure prophecies appeared one by one, high-ranking radicals sought counsel from xenos and even the Neverborn. The thirteenth one, the last one, they said. Even during peaceful hours in the owl, in the flourishing cities of Uebotia its shadow lingered like creeping chill in the last days of summer.

When I finally left asleep, the dreams of the dark shrine didn't trouble my dreams, by the Emperor's grace.


	3. II

I landed on Torquigener without my retinue. Melitara bought me a lunchbox and a bottle of tea in the port food court, and I left her to enjoy the company of fellow traders in the bar. When I came out to the arrival area, it was packed with ragged refugees little different from myself. I had donned my shabby old clothes and put my scant belongings into a beat-up backpack. A few nearby systems had been ravaged by an ork invasion, and the Fabricator-General eagerly accepted thousands of homeless job seekers.

Some were drinking cheap booze and eating instant noodles, some were counting coins to find a place in a transfer bus, some were quarreling and brawling. Old and young, men and women, grumpy seasoned workers and brazen chavs. I stopped in a quiet corner to take my coins out of a hidden pocket.

In a moment a hand grabbed me by the shoulder, and a knife flashed in front of my face. I kicked the attacker in the shin, pushed off his hand, dove into the crowd squeezing the coins in my fist. The mugger, a young fellow only a bit taller than me, yelled and cussed but I didn't stop till I got close to the exit.

I found the end of the queue for the registration terminals. A bored lexmechanic accompanied by a few security servitors watched over countless newcomers who scanned their documents or got fingerprinted if they didn't have any. Most came from former agri-worlds, and they tapped on the screens feverishly, intimidated by unfamiliar machinery.

It took more than an hour just to get to a terminal. Fluffster had made a fake identity card during the trip. Some randomly concocted biography of a farm menial. I was planning to infiltrate the hiring process in the region where data clearings had been noticed. The area was run by the Fabricator Locum, and I suspected the whole planet administration was involved. Most likely lists of 'dead souls' to embezzle the extra funds. But an inquisitor has to prepare for the worst even in seemingly simple cases, as the cafe cult had taught me. The very 'hospitality' of the usually secretive tech-priests was already suspicious.

When I came out of the registration hall and entered the bus terminals, it was already late evening. Every minute dozens of buses embarked from numerous platforms. Most of the agri-world newcomers used cash, so the queues to ticket-vending machines were as long as those to the registration. Finally, I clicked on the station title and dropped my coins in the slot. Platform three-fourteen, departs in fifteen minutes.

Elderly passengers scurried from one escalator to another trying to find the right platform. I took a seat at the window and took my belated lunch out of the backpack. Soon the bus started and left the vast terminal for the industrial parks.

The highway was a suspension bridge a few hundred meters over endless mining areas and cargo storehouses. Majestic factory buildings looked like artificial mountains speckled with lights, and their summits were lost to sight in clouds of smoke reflecting the eternal glow of countless furnaces. Levels upon levels of workshops, foundries, living blocks towered on both sides of the bridge. Highways crossed and looped in every direction like strings of orange traffic lamps. The captivating non-stop movement of a perfectly tuned anthill that never slept.

I had enough time to munch, send a coded message to Fluffster, read a few chapters from an adventure book I'd uploaded to my battered dataslate, finish the tunic sleeve till the bus stopped at my station at last. My backpack on the shoulder, I jumped out and followed the others to the advertisement board.

Renting rooms was another allowed source of income for aged or injured workers. I browsed the list of potential landlords and chose an old woman who lived the closest to the main workshop. Her price wasn't too cheap but my savings were enough to live there for about a month till the next salary payment.

Square blocks of living cells were totally similar. A small shop and an eatery in every third one, a sickly tree in a pot in the center of every narrow courtyard. Orange dim lamps didn't disperse the darkness of silent passages. Most of the windows were unlit as the locals were having their rest before another workday.

Soon even the voices of other newcomers died off far behind as they found their rooms of accommodation. The woman's cell was on the top floor at the far edge of the living blocks with a view of the factory building. I scanned the code of my booking confirmation at the entrance and came in. Dim lamps lit as I walked by the corridor and went out behind my back. Absolute silence on the ground floor as well as in the elevator.

A plain door in the very end of a long corridor a hundred floors over the ground. I pressed on the button, almost sure she'd already got a notification. In a few seconds I heard a sound of careful steps, and the door opened. A small white-haired woman in a worn overall greeted me with a nod.

'Come in, girl. It's lonely here after the last of my sons didn't come back.'

'Good evening, ma'am,' I smiled. 'I'll pay for the first month right now.'

'Have a rest after the long trip, and then we'll talk about jobs and money. Just keep quiet, let people have a nap. Morning starts early on Torquigener.'

I followed her to a clean, almost monastic flat. White lamps gave it a workshop look. Two room doors, a small living room with a metallic table and a narrow sofa. The only spot of colour was a pot of red pelargonium at the window. The lady took two plastic cups and a boiler from a little drawer under the table.

'Sorry, nothing else to offer you. You'll have to get used to plain eatery food and lack of comfort. Everyone who lives there for long enough turns into a machine like the factory masters.'

'Sounds just fine, ma'am. Simple and no frills.'

'It will never be real home. I've lived here for more than a hundred years and still miss the world where I was born. You've to get ready for hours, days, months of toil with few days off.'

'I'm planning to work here for a couple of years to save up some money and move to another planet.'

'The tech-priests aren't much willing to let workers go,' she sighed. 'I came here in about your age and thought it was a blessing. My homeworld had burnt to nothing by that time. Where were you born?'

'An agri-world, ma'am,' I remembered the made-up biography. 'I was working in a greenhouse when the orks attacked us.'

'That's why I'm surprised by your enthusiasm for landing on a scrap-metal junkyard after a green, calm farm world. Mine was a civilised world. I lived in a city built over the remains of an ancient outpost, and that became our doom. Traitor legionnaires arrived to retrieve the technical wonders left by our distant ancestors. They slaughtered the older and the weak, and we young people were forced to pull the machines out and repair them, to dig trenches when the Mechanicus armies arrived to battle the invaders. So I, a pampered university freshman, had to shovel through frozen dirt under heavy fire. There were some who refused to work for the enemy. The traitors finished them without hesitation, and I often feel sorry to have been too cowardly to accept quick death.'

'But you've broken through in the end.'

'Because the Mechanicus were stronger. When they crushed the traitors, hardly a quarter of us captives were alive. With no homes or families, only lucky to have avoided enemy bullets. The tech-priests were generous to offer us a job at their factory. I haven't left Torquigener ever since. Here I got married, here both my sons were born. A harsh but stable life, when you know what happens in a week, or a year, or even a decade.'

'What about the wages then?'

'Enough for ordinary small pleasures. Some treats on weekends or holidays, even a week at the local resort once a year if you work well. But don't hope to save up large sums quickly. Especially when it comes to injuries out of your insurance list. That's what happened to my late husband and took away my younger son.'

'So sorry for your losses, ma'am.'

'Thank you, girl. Just don't be silly to repeat their mistakes. You'll be offered a lucrative loan on signing the contract. Every month they gather a working brigade for the special factory on our moon and promise wages three-four times higher than here. Usually enthusiastic novices take the loan and depart for the moon to repay it quickly. I refused, and had to cope with dire need for the first few years but I'm still alive.'

'I wonder why the moon factory is that dangerous,' I felt there was a clue for the recruitment riddle.

'Some risky production. The tech-priests are never open about that. When my elder son got married, he wanted to earn some funds for his future children. He enlisted to the brigade along with his wife, and they never came back. An industrial accident. The same happened to the other son when my husband fell seriously ill. He got the necessary sum but perished soon after. Sorry for being that annoying. Most of my peers died years ago, and I'm always glad to see a new face.'

'It's totally fine,' I nodded friendly.

'You may go to your room now, you'll have to get up with the morning signal tomorrow. And I'll drink another cup of tea. Sleep pills aren’t able to rid me of insomnia anymore.'

After a quick shower I lay down on my hard bed to ponder over the landlady's tale. There'd been data on workers transferred to the moon but mortality rate wasn't much higher than in the main workshops. The suspicious fluctuations had some connections to these transfers, and I was sure either the Fabricator-General or the Fabricator Locum were responsible for lowering the number of the dead to get their portions of money and extract funds to their undercover accounts. I had to tell Fluffster to check bank transaction activity in the system.

When a loud siren call woke me up, the day had just started to break. I pulled on my boots and zipped my jacket. The landlady was brushing her hair when I looked out from my room.

'Morning, girl. You'll have to go to the recruitment office first. I'll show you then. You won't have time to have breakfast today so buy something in the shop at the ground floor.'

'Not a problem, ma'am.'

'You'll probably get a job in the same workshop as me so I'll wait for you at lunchtime to show you to the eatery. You'll find buddies of your age soon.'

A long queue of newcomers had gathered in the vast hall of the recruitment office. A few lexmechanics scanned documents and registration sheets, gave out job instructions, filled in data cards for every new employee. When my turn came, the lexmechanic took a few picts of my face and scanned my identity card.

'Previous job?'

'Greenhouse worker, sir. Sorting and packing vegetables.'

'You will start as an unqualified sorting worker. After six months with decent results you will have the right to undergo qualification tests and get enlisted to a specialisation course if you succeed.'

'Thank you, sir.'

'According to the program of support for young workers, you have the right for a starter loan for ten years.'

'I'm afraid my starting salary won't be enough to return it,' I pretended to be interested but doubtful.

'We run a special program for promising employees. In the beginning of the next week another brigade will be despatched to the factory on the moon. A more complicated job for more skilled workers but if you meet the requirements, you might make twice or thrice the income of local factories.'

'Sounds perfect, sir,' I smiled contently. 'I'd like to apply for both programs.'

I planned to purloin the money for the financial security of my team in further ventures. With my acolytes ready to rescue me, the risk was well calculated.

'Here's your bank card,' the lexmechanic handed me a small envelope. 'Go to your primary workplace now. You have to arrive to the conscription center tomorrow after breakfast. There you will get all necessary information before the departure in the beginning of the next week.'

When I ran into the shop, the workday was about to start. I found my place on the line. A girl of about my age waved her hand at me.

'Also a newcomer? Hurry on, the instructor will come soon.'

'Hi,' I waved back. 'Time to learn something new after a few years in a cucumber greenhouse.'

'I don't want to stay here for long. They promise cool stuff at the registration. I've had enough of sorting fleece at the farm.'

'Going to the moon? I'm in, though my landlady won't approve.'

'The same for mine. But it sounds great, isn't it? They say, the loan will arrive today. I couldn't even imagine getting that much cash at once at home.'

'Stop chattering!' we heard a strict husky voice, and I saw my landlady walk along the line. 'You have a few minutes to learn what to do today.'

My agility exercises of past did me good service on that day. In an hour I was easily picking pieces of metal out of the river of junk flowing by. The girl next to me was a quick and skilled worker, and I tried not to fall behind. My landlady operated a machine press in the end of the line, and a group of young men carried blocks of pressed junk to a large platform at the exit.

At lunchtime the landlady led us to the canteen. Everyone was new to the factory, and most were cheered up by the perspectives. I sat at the table with the sorter girl and four junk handlers. Loud and jolly, they were fascinated by the tempting contract.

'I worked at a farm junkyard when the xenos blew us up,' the oldest of the fellows said. 'Hours and hours of pushing the cart and loading up rubbish. Here it's all automated. And we'll get flats if we work well.'

'I've heard you can even apply for enginseer apprenticeship if you work well,' another one nodded. 'The moon factory is run directly by the Fabricator-General, the best stuff, the best wages.'

'I couldn't have earned that much in ten years on my homeworld,' said the sorting girl.

'Are there any people here who worked on the moon?' I asked. 'Would be curious to listen to them.'

'I've already tried to find some,' the first handler answered. 'They all prefer to stay there and don't come back to the main forge. Must be a great place to work.'

'We'll see that ourselves in less than a week,' the girl smiled.

In the evening I told the landlady about the conscription and thanked her for help. She was much disappointed by my 'pursuit of easy money.'

'Almost half of the newcomers are to leave, girl. Even many deaths don't make them stop and think better. Young people don't value their lives.'

Quite tired after a full factory workday and the uneasy explanation, I retreated to my room and lay down on the bed with the dataslate. I felt bad about the kindly landlady and her intentions to protect the young fools, about the cheerful worker buddies who weren't aware about the grim secret of the moon. It was up to me to stop it and keep as many as possible alive. I will find some friends there but lose them again like the actors. Ordinary people shun inquisitors even more than heretics. It will take decades to toughen up and get used to permanent solitude.

I typed a quick message to Fluffster about the recent discoveries and asked him to look for the coded vox and mail channels of the moon factory. The answer came instantly. 'Turn on the cyber-moth translation once you land there. We'll wait for your signal in orbit. Working over the task. Both the Fabricator-General and the Fabricator Locum are there now.'

The yesterday company of five waited for me in the yard when I got out in the morning. All sole survivors from ravaged worlds, they were eager to find new buddies at their new home to start a new life and leave grief behind. A sleepy salesman at the shop scanned our tickets and gave us conscription breakfast rations. Munching on the move, we hurried to the assembly center. About three hundred employees had arrived to the center main hall when a Logis accompanied by two lexmechanics got in. A big boss for some serious business.

'In the name of the Omnissiah,' he started solemnly. 'I greet you on behalf of the Fabricator-General, servants of the Machine God, and congratulate you on being chosen for the most important jobs in our forge world. You will spend a few days here till everything is ready to transport you to the moon. Today will be a day off, and tomorrow you will undergo a special training to prepare for your future job. You will sign your contracts now, but pay attention to the requirements. You will be employed in a production of top secrecy, and therefore you will not be allowed to leave the center before departure.'

I spent the rest of the day chilling out with my buddies and waiting for further information from the cricetid. The center had a winter garden and a snack bar, so the workers were looking forward to spending some of their ample funds. Booze galore blinded and deafened even the most suspicious. In the evening most were drunk as fish, a few boisterous youths brawled at the garden doors, a teenager couple sat cuddling under a blooming tree.

My dataslate tinkled. 'Already in orbit. Got interesting stuff from the channel. Clients are waiting, the Fabricator Locum said. Too few this time but needed soon. Write about further developments.'

A sudden loud cuss startled me, and the tablet slipped to my knees. The oldest handler punched a short fellow in the face grabbing him by the collar. I recognized the port mugger. His pen-knife lay at the handler's feet.

'You shithead,' the handler roared. 'Empty your damn pockets now.'

The mugger wiped blood from his smashed lips and threw a wallet and a used vox-slate to the floor. I came closer.

'Check your bag and pockets,' the handler told me. 'A thief among us. Even the wage isn't enough for the bastard.'

His fists clenched, the mugger retreated to the back corner away from the others, blood still trickling down his chin. A security servitor came in.

'Rumbles strictly prohibited,' we heard his mechanic voice. 'Lights out. Reveille at dawn tomorrow.'

Next morning the lexmechanics gathered us in unexpected haste. Many of the hungover workers sick and dizzy, the usually calm tech-priests were about to shout out in anger. One of them led the sorters to a separate room with a large table. Lit by a few bright lamps, a pile of eerie iridescent stone shards glimmered before us. Their anthracite and black glossy surface reminded me of obsidian. The lexmechanic took two shards and put them under direct lamplight.

'You will have to sort rock up there. Two kinds mixed together. First you will have to pick it from flint rubble, then to separate the different sorts. One of them has a metallic gleam, the other is opaque smooth black.'

Then everyone had to separate a smaller pile as a trial task. When my turn came, I started picking glimmering shards. A strange psychic resonance made me giddy. The matte black ones were cold to the touch like a null's distant presence. Looked like my worst suspicions had some ground. I pretended to adjust my collar and activated the cyber-moth. A few quick picts for Fluffster to see.

The second task was harder, a large pile of sharp flints with a few shards hidden among the waste. Glimmering ones were like sparks to the psyker-sight, black ones were blank spots. I decided not to work too quickly for they couldn't notice my psychic ability. My workshop buddy was already pale, her hands shaky, barely able to hold the shards.

'It's so stuffy here,' she whispered with effort. 'I shouldn't have drunk that much.'

At lunchtime most of us were about to faint. My heart was throbbing, red circles danced before my eyes. I reluctantly swallowed a few spoonfuls and closed my eyes to pull myself together.

The door opened. The Logis came in and waved at the lexmechanic. They talked in binary code, their voices and intonations nervous and irritated. Fluffster had tried to teach me the Mechanicus speech but the few lessons were not enough to understand anything apart from a few words. 'Few... Already... Tomorrow...'

'Listen well, servants of the Omnissiah,' the lexmechanic addressed us with obvious anxiety. 'A timetable shift. Due to technical circumstances we will have to leave for the moon today evening. The practice will end two hours before the usual time so you could finish your preparations. You will have time to sleep in the transport to start work once we arrive.'

I sighed and reached for the moth again. Quick development of the case was a blessing I couldn't have even hoped for, and it was a perfect opportunity to see the moon's secret in person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapters will be posted on June 25


	4. III

We left the planet in the enormous hold of a cargo vessel, overseen by wordless security servitors. My buddies were struggling with hangover or trying to take a nap before the workday. I hid in a quiet dark corner to read another message from Fluffster. Brief as usual. 'Suspicions confirmed. Take maximum care about any items they give you. We're ready to act the moment we're needed. The host is ready to meet the guests.'

The Logis appeared again, right before arrival. His trusty lexmechanics watched over as we lined up on the deck. Their faces betrayed tension unlike the dispassionate metal visage of their superior. He addressed us in the same solemn tone as yesterday.

'Servants of the Machine God, your duty is to obey His will without hesitation as cogs and gears obey the Machine Spirit. You have been chosen to serve our guests of honour and witness the greatest mysteries. Thank the Omnissiah for being trusted a job grand and majestic.'

'When bosses start talking like that, everything is rotten,' the mugging fellow whispered.

'Do not dare to belittle the noblesse of the Omnissiah's gifts. Otherwise you will lose all of your money.'

'First you impose your loans on us then threaten to take them back at every whim,' the worker spat out.

A security servitor hit him on the back. He gasped and fell to his knees.

'Do not offend the Omnissiah by rejecting or mocking the honour bestowed upon you, lowly menials of His mechanic realm,' the Logis said sternly. 'Lest your punishment should be merciless when our guests are discontented with your behaviour.'

One by one we entered landing modules. The jolly mood of my buddies vanished. Once we took our places, the sorter girl took out a bottle of water and handed it to the servitor's victim, no more minding the yesterday accident. He only sighed, his head drooping, his breath still hard after the stun attack.

When our module landed, the lexmechanics drove us out into the moon's cold misty morning. The smoky skies were still dark, small flakes of snow falling slowly to the rockcrete pavements of the cargo docks. Behind the endless rows of storehouses and parked transports there was a towering mountain of metal and ferrocrete alive with furnace blaze. On the vast square before the gates of the cyclopean factory I saw a Thunderhawk in a circle of landing lights, surrounded by armoured giants. The Iron Hands, I could have thought. But as we came closer, I noticed black and yellow stripes on their pauldrons, and that sent chills down my spine.

Their leader stepped out from the machine's shadow, and the gilded horns of his helmet shone in the red glow of the foundries. I looked at my buddies and clenched my fists not to give out the freezing agitation. They must be happy to know nothing about who we were about to face.

'Let me greet you on behalf of the Fabricator-General and the Fabricator Locum, Lord Limax.' The Logis bowed down, nothing left of his earlier hubris.

'I am obliged to deliver you the greeting of my overlord, sir,' the notorious Warsmith answered in a strained voice that could be easily mistaken for mechanical. 'The campaign goes on, and we have to visit you more frequently to replenish the losses. We have fulfilled our part of the treaty. An even greater amount has been excavated since our previous meeting.'

'We have provided a decent number of workers for your purposes, my lord. Not all of them qualified enough though.'

'Not a problem. We need more to remove explosives planted at the walls.'

I looked at Plodia's former trade partner with unease and disgust. The moth was filming the unholy conversation, and I thought with relief that my team was to arrive in mere hours if not quarters of an hour.

The crowd got the point quicker than the tech-priest expected. Whispers turned into angry voices.

'We're here not to demine fields for your pal!'

'We've been promised a good job for good money!'

'Take back your loan and shove it!'

The Warsmith clasped his hands, and I heard his heavy breath through the helmet dynamics. The frightened Logis wavered to the servitors.

'Get rid of the troublemakers! I am sorry, very sorry, my lord, they will be put to death for the others learned due obedience.'

'No need to waste workforce,' Limax said. 'You've delivered too few today. The troublemakers will be remembered and sent to the enemy's field of fire or given to the Stormbringer.'

I touched the rosette hidden under the lining on my jacket. Enough to intimidate most citizens of the Imperium but useless against a whole squad of Iron Warriors. We were no more hired workers but slaves for the traitors.

'Let them unload the cargo and do the sorting while you will be entertained by the rulers of the forge.' The Logis bowed down again.

Limax followed him to the gate along with his legionnaires. His moves were ungraceful and gawky even in power armour. He looked around in constant anxiety, his fists clenched as if he was getting ready for an ambush.

The servitors lined up before the angered workers at the sign from a lexmechanic.

'Get to work without further questions,' the tech-priest ordered. 'Those who will get the worst results will be added to the mine-clearance list.'

He led us to a dock storehouse where the traitors had already unloaded their tainted cargo. Heavy crates with marks of different colours were piled up to the high ceiling. The background psychic noise was almost as strong as on Chaos-corrupted Coreopsis. I joined the other sorters as the lexmechanic pointed at a few conveyor belts in the other corner.

'Four for each line. Two for each sort, one for smaller shards, the other for bigger ones.'

The line moved quicker than that of the factory workshop. I barely had time to pick smaller black pieces and throw them into a box at my feet. My fingers froze as if it was ice. Still better than the iridescent flints. The girls who worked with them were pale, about to faint after mere minutes of work.

'I'm dizzy,' my buddy whispered. 'So fuggy. A buzz in my ears, like distant voices.'

One of the sorters on the line next to us collapsed, and her stone shards scattered around. A servitor prodded her with a stun baton. The lexmechanic made a mark in his dataslate.

'You'll get a respite after two hours of work. But only if you don't slack.'

My dataslate jingled. Luckily none of the servitors heard it through the conveyor noise. That must be my team's successful landing. I had to hold on till the break and find a way out.

By the end of the second hour half of the sorters had fainted at least once. Pebble flowed past us like a river without end. My hands were almost numb at the touch of the strange null-stone. When the lines finally stopped, the lexmechanic allowed us to walk out for a few minutes.

I looked up at the grey sky and took a deep breath. 'Get in. Your rosette will work. Waiting for you in the air shaft to the right.' I read Fluffster's latest message. My buddy sat down to the pavement, her eyes closed.

'I'll take a stroll to the gate and back,' I said.

A servitor watched my moves carefully. I tried to walk in a relaxed way, stopping after a dozen steps to look around. When already close to the building, I zipped the coat up to the collar reaching for the rosette under the lining. To the right from the main gate. A long row of doors big and small. I stopped at a low door hidden behind a few parked shuttles.

'The break is coming to an end.' I heard a metallic voice announce loudly. 'Get back to the dock.'

I put the rosette to the lock. The door slid aside, and I rushed in before the servitors could notice. Inside there was a messy maze of corridors and stairways. Signals in binary code beeped from every direction, servitors of all kinds moved around ceaselessly with carts of cargo, mobile cogitators, intricate instruments.

They would notice an intruder as soon as a human worker appeared. Most likely my figure had already appeared on security auspex screens. I sneaked past a few cargo platforms towards an information column. Red lights flickered above my head, sirens howled.

I activated the column with my rosette. A few seconds to find the air shaft. Fifty meters to the right, next to the elevators. Security servitors appeared from the door I had entered. I ran forward slipping between columns and bulky machines.

A group of Skitarii got out of an elevator in order to intercept me. Hard even for my team to beat. Unarmed, I stopped when they aimed their rifles at me. The servitors were coming closer from behind. It's easy to fail when you go all-in.

A heavily augmented, towering tech-priest paced after the Skitarii. His face was a stern mask of steel, and his polished mechadendrites were spread out like legs of a giant spider.

'Hands up, Inquisitor.' His artificial voice clanged. 'Either you go with me or the servitors will give you out to the Iron Warriors in shackles.'

'What are your plans for me?'

'Better than those of the Warsmith.'

'I don't have any weapons.' I raised both hands.

The Skitarii surrounded me. One of them got his gun to my head. The tech-priest pressed the elevator button.

'Don't they teach you in your Ordo that your kind isn't welcome here,' he grumbled when the elevator doors closed.

'Our duty is to eradicate heresy everywhere.'

'They should have sent an older operative. Should I arrive a minute later, and the servitors would catch you and find the rosette. My dear boss would be happy to sell you to the Warsmith for some extra treats.'

'The Conclave will notice the loss.'

'The sub-sector is doomed anyway. My data analysis allows me to affirm with 98.5 percent certainty that High Inquisitor Platydoras will declare it Perdita during the next intrusion and order everyone to retreat. You're just cannon fodder, with a rosette or without. Where's your damn retinue?'

'They're ready to join me. But first I'd be glad to know who I am talking to.'

'This humble person is the Fabricator Locum of this lousy place.'

'You're responsible for most of the clearings.'

'Not because I've done it, but because I've allowed them to stay visible. For you.'

The elevator stopped, and we proceeded to a long empty corridor.

'Anyway you're in the business.'

'I promise to give it up if we strike a deal.'

'You offer that to an Inquisitor,' I sneered.

'The Warsmith won't offer you even that.'

'What do you want then?'

'The office of my boss. He's the one who allied with the traitors decades ago. The cheapest workforce resource in exchange for precious warp-infused stuff. That old fool cannot understand he's giving out the world on a silver plate. They'll conquer it, exploit it and throw its worthless husk away like they're always doing.'

'Aren't you afraid he's listening?'

'He already knows I've detained the insolent inquisitor. And I'm the one to oversee the security systems including wiretapping.'

'I need to get in touch with my retinue and hurry to his quarters while the Warsmith is there. I need backing from you though.' I didn't trust him much but decided to use everything I had at hand.

'The Warsmith is paranoid, my dear lady. He retreated to his cruiser at the first sight of an intruder. They're preparing for departure now. As for my boss, it's all up to you. I'll deal with the Skitarii command protocols and auspex data meanwhile.'

'How many guards are there?'

'A squad of his personal Protectors. The rest will ignore you.'

'The traitors are to abduct the captives.'

'Do you expect me to shoot down a battle barge with escorts? Mind your own business or I'll change my mind.'

'Give me the exact coordinates then. And a decent gun.'

'Bring the pistol back after the skirmish.'

I pulled a vox bead from under the lining and plugged it into my ear. A tough battle ahead. If we're quick enough, the captives will be set free too. With an arc pistol drawn I crossed a few hallways and opened a heavy door with a code given by the Fabricator Locum.

'Special elevator number two,' I said into the vox. 'Meet you on the level twenty-eleven, sector theta-nine.'

'Almost there, in the air shaft,' Fluffster replied. 'Don't hurry, we've to arrive together.'

'Twenty-eleven,' a mechanical voice announced, and the door opened.

The inner quarters were fortified as if the Fabricator-General was about to face a massive invasion. Wall turrets, security auspexes, silent Skitarii on guard before armoured doors. Loyal to the Fabricator Locum, they only watched me with their glowing lamp-eyes as I walked past them. I wondered how many of them supported their superior's heretical activities. More of unconditional devotion to the Machine Cult than true interest in forbidden things.

A few lamps ahead went out suddenly. I noticed a quick movement and darted aside. A bright blaze of bolter fire lit the corridor. I peeped from behind a column and fired my pistol at a hulking shape that stepped out of the darkness. A crudely built automaton, the guard carried an unusually shaped bolt cannon and a security stun gun. The notorious emblem of a helmeted skull glistened on the guard's breastplate. A cracking discharge from the shot sparkled on the automaton's neck, and two of its limbs drooped. It raised both weapons and aimed at the column.

'Where're you?' I grunted. 'The guard is gonna finish me.'

'Close to the shaft exit.' Fluffster's voice was still calm. 'Don't be too afraid, Limax needs you alive not dead.'

'You know how to reassure.'

The Skitarii watched the fight with indifference, not allowed to act against the Fabricator-General's guard. Another bolt shell cracked the column, and the impact threw me aside. I ducked milliseconds before the automaton fired the stun gun.

'Do you think the Warsmith will treat me better if he learns I know Plodia, Fluffster?' I smirked.

'Sure, he'll do his best to keep you alive till he gets enough clues to find our common friend. He's among the numerous people she's framed.'

'Hope we won't join the list.'

'I wouldn't be that optimistic even now.'

The automaton approached me step by step. I pretended to be frozen by fear. When it was close, ready to attack me again, I threw the pistol out. Another energy discharge hit the guard's neck, and it staggered for a moment. Yet I wasn't quick enough to avoid its shot. The padded sleeve cushioned the stun hit but a sharp cramp in the arm made me drop the weapon. Slowed down and sparking, the automaton reached for me with its limbs.

An obsidian-dark beam hit it in the back, and the guard was instantly ripped apart by a blast of unlight. I clung to the wall to dodge a shower of metal scraps. Fluffster waved his paw at me.

'Are there many of these chaps there?'

'A squad or two. That's why I had to dig through the owl's storages to find something special for today.'

'An arsenal up there.' I chuckled. 'Where're the others?'

'Battling a couple more just round the corner.'

I picked up the pistol and followed the cricetid. Sounds of clashing blades and rifle shots echoed in the distance. Fluffster discharged his gun on the run. When the dark blaze went out, I saw Sister and Angel hacking and slashing at four towering guards. The marine yelled in yet unseen fury as his Lightning Claw mauled an automaton's torso, its limbs already blown off by bolter shots. Tears were running down the Repentia's cheeks as she swung her Eviscerator blade with her fingers white with strain. Uncle had taken cover behind a collapsed column, his rifle fire tearing off mechandendrite joints and pieces of metal shells.

'Here we come!' I shouted sending another artificial lightning to the closest guard's headpiece.

In a few seconds we caught our breath over the smoking remains of the automata. The passage was quiet, a heavy door in the end suspiciously open and unguarded.

'He's ready to encounter us,' I whispered.

'Let him meet my sire's bloody wrath,' the marine growled. 'Let me rip the traitor to shreds while my rage is still smouldering.'

'Don't get off limits if you don't want the Blood God to notice you.' I slapped him on the pauldron and frowned under the glowing stare of his eye lenses.

'Let's see what your stuff is good for.' Uncle took a grenade from his belt. 'Close your eyes, kiddos.'

A deafening blast shook the walls. I took my hand off my face and raised the pistol.

'Come on while they're dazzled,' Fluffster commanded.

We opened fire in sync. Seven automata lined up in at the doors shielding their master. Their sensors were still overloaded by the flash, and most of their bolts were easy to dodge. Fluffster's gun put down two in the first moments of the battle. Angel leapt forth to draw the fire. Uncle grabbed Sister by the hood when she rushed after him.

'Not before we make enough holes in them. A bad idea to rumble with them with no armour on.'

'I'm clad in the Emperor's might. Only in battle I can atone for my transgression.'

'You'll have plenty of opportunities to atone in future. Take one of my pistols now.'

When only three of the guards remained, we heard a brief binary code command, and they retreated to the hall, pursued by the marine.

'Don't let them close the doors.' Uncle followed him recharging the gun.

I rushed in with the others. The Fabricator-General looked at us from between his half-broken automata. He was neither particularly huge nor heavily augmented. He was unarmed save a skull-shaped grenade sparking with green energy discharges.

'The bastard has bribed you, bitch,' he grumbled as his guards collapsed under heavy fire. 'He's turned off my security systems. He's preferred a sop from the Lords of Terra to a half of my lucrative black market income.'

He raised the grenade dramatically. A vortex grenade, the worst of all. He was still reluctant to open a warp rift, likely in a vain hope to escape with his undercover funds.

'No funny business,' I said. 'The Lords Dragon will turn you into a toilet-cleaning servitor if you're stupid enough to fight back. Be brave and meet execution with dignity.'

'I need only you and the rodent alive.'

He hurled the grenade, and Angel fired his bolter at the same time. We all fell down to the floor but nothing happened.

'Such a moronic way to distract us.' I heard Fluffster's voice.

The cricetid had caught the grenade in midair. The traitorous Magos froze with a plasma culverin in his hands.

'You haven't even activated it.' The cricetid flipped the switch and tossed the grenade back to its owner.

A small black hole tore up when the grenade hit the haywired tech-priest's head. It grew rapidly, and in a mere second the Fabricator-General was swallowed by whirling darkness. We rushed to the exit. Fluffster closed the doors with a kick, and we threw ourselves to the floor and covered our heads. A soundless implosion filled the corridor with dazzling multicolour light. When it died out, nothing remained of the traitor's quarters. We stood before a solid wall unscathed by fire.

'Warp-trickery.' Fluffster sighed. 'What are we gonna do next?'

'I'm going back to the docks. Limax is waiting for me to be delivered to him. The captives are to be driven to his ship soon.'

'We won't be able to intercept him.'

'But we can find out where he's going. Take my rosette and tell Lady Melitara's navigator to follow the squadron through the warp.'

I threw the borrowed pistol to the floor and opened the vent grate before any of the team could object.


	5. IV

With the help of the Fabricator Locum I managed to sneak right to the dock where the traitors had gathered the workers for departure. The Magos seemed much delighted by the successful removal of his superior. He promised to send all evidence to my astropathic mailbox during the day. The perspective of coming promotion had changed his mind from cynical to jovial and even friendly.

The dock was guarded by the Iron Warriors legionnaires. None of the local tech-priests was around. The workers were standing or sitting on the floor, their faces frightened and anxious. I crawled out of an open vent quietly and looked for my buddies. They were sitting at a column, mortified as the others. The girl smiled as she saw me but I put my finger to the lips. The guards at the door didn't look back at the workers while there was no open revolt.

I crept to their corner and we shook hands.

'Where have you been?' one of the handlers whispered. 'There's been such a mess right after the break. They say, an Inquisitor has sneaked to the factory.'

'You've promised to catch the inquisitor soon.' I heard the Warsmith's strained voice from the outside. 'If she's not handed out in a quarter of an hour, we embark. And we will cancel the agreement because dishonest attitude is no sign of respect. Why don't you answer, Fabricator-General?'

He appeared in the doors a few seconds later.

'Set off, right now. The situation is FUBAR.'

The marines herded us to the cargo modules. I turned my head to take one more look of the factory. When they locked the door, I sat down on the dirty floor and read a quick litany. Real danger and real challenge ahead.

My buddies came to themselves on the ship only. The hold was an enormous hall of bare metal lit by cold white lamps. A sharp smell of desinfection chemicals filled the air. A Dark Mechanicus enginseer met us at the entrance. Everyone was registered and fingerprinted. Servitors gave each a ration package with a few nutrient briquettes.

'All that you get till the end of the journey,' the enginseer said. 'No shouting, no questions.'

When he left, the sorting girl asked quietly:

'But where were you after the break? The bedlam started right after you walked off to the gate. You were nowhere around.'

'Only if you swear to keep mumb.'

My buddies surrounded me and leaned their heads towards me. I drew the Inquisition emblem on the floor with my finger. They froze with their eyes open wide.

'Hush. No one should know that.' I frowned.

'I'd never have guessed,' said the oldest handler. 'That's why you ran to the forge. Why are you here alone?'

'I've executed the Fabricator-General for heresy and treason. Now it's time to deal with his allies. And to get you all out of the mess.'

'You'll die a gruesome death if they find out. You are not even armed.'

'I won't be alone.'

'Do you think we're good fighters?'

'Inquisitors always have somebody to fight for them. I won't tell you much lest you be in danger.'

They stared at me with fear and hope. The same ambiguous attitude towards my office I met when I last talked to the actors. But here we were united by common danger and common difficulties.

The warp trip wasn't long. About half a week had passed when the enginseer appeared again. His servitor guards lined us up before the exit. We entered the same landing module that had delivered us to the ship. When it hit the ground and the door slid open, fresh wind blew in. We walked out to a rocky plateau over a gigantic canyon. The sky was misty and calm. Here and there sparse grass and purple saxifrage coloured the rocks as grey as the clouds above.

Far in the distance there was an only sign of human presence on the planet. Mossy walls of a half-ruined fortress were surrounded by rows of trenches. Pillars of smoke rose to the sky where enemy fire had damaged the ramparts.

Limax strode forward mumbling something into the vox. In a quarter of an hour another band of legionnaires ascended the stony slope to meet him. Veteran soldiers led by a sergeant in battered armour, they were accompanied by a group of enginseers and another Chaos Lord who wore the Iron Warriors heraldry on his armour but differed greatly in both stature and garb.

Tall and unusually gaunt, he hid his face under an elaborate vulture mask encrusted with lazuli and gold. Azure sigils and runes of Tzeentch were painted all over his artificer armour, vertiginous to look at. A psyker of stunning might, he enveloped all the plateau in his creeping aura. I felt bare to the depth of my soul under his profound gaze.

The sergeant walked along the column with businesslike indifference. He made brief remarks, and the enginseers who followed him made notes in their dataslates.

'Clearance, clearance, sorting, trenches, clearance...'

The sorcerer stood still but I felt his glance touch us one by one. Then he spoke in a soft and melodic voice.

'Ten of them have been touched by the warp.' He pointed at a few workers, then looked at me. 'And one is a manifested psyker. Alas, too few this time. The Stormbringer's hunger will not be sated.'

'Tell me where I can get more,' Limax grunted. 'Next week we embark to a few other forge worlds, Lord Seer.'

'Fine.' the sorcerer chuckled. 'Follow me, sweethearts. I wish you were stronger, my girl, but you are able to assist mighty psykers, I hope.'

He stroked my shoulder with his gloved hand, and I startled at the touch of his mind. Two brightly clad enginseers led the other chosen out of the column, and the seer patted some of them on their heads.

'Just down the hill, sweetlings. Do you see that cloud of sparkling fumes? That's your new home.'

Right on the edge of a canyon that turned out to be the remains of a cyclopean quarry towered a surreal construction that looked remotely similar to a factory furnace. Spectral fire smouldered inside, and gusts of warp-smoke formed eerie shapes in the air. An aura even more terrifying and malignant than the sorcerer's.

A group of ragged dishevelled teens were fussing over the horrible furnace cleaning its rune-etched sides.

'The fire is too low, chickies.' The sorcerer shook his head reproachfully. 'You know what happens to the one that's the weakest in the band.'

'It's always hungry.' A skinny, sickly boy sighed raising his head. 'It's about to eat our souls.'

'Don't be afraid, little man. I've got some treats for the mean thing.'

He waved at the enginseer cultists relaxedly. They grabbed the worker who stood closer to the furnace and tossed him into the warp flame before he could utter a word. The teens recoiled and froze in panic. The other captives stared at the furnace with a vain desire to flee but their limbs didn't obey, bound by sorcery. Stricken by the malicious delight of the daemon engine, I put my face in my hands.

'Don't be a sissy, honey.' The sorcerer hugged me by the shoulders. 'You won’t go to the Stormbringer's maw if you are strong enough to endure the job. A bunch of squalid trash shall not be missed. Their worthless lives will turn into a week or two of a splendid warp storm. Now go and meet your new friends.'

I hobbled to the furnace, struggling with headache and grief. The sorcerer's condescending attitude made me get myself together. I'm an Inquisitor and have to remember about my duties. The teens crouched at the bottom of the furnace. Their bodies were shaking violently, and psychic frost covered the stones around at every burst of their powerful energies. So many strong psykers in one place, and none of them soulbound for sure. I remembered one of latest unsolved cases. A Black Ship that had disappeared in warp tides.

I sat down between the sickly boy and a waifish girl older than him. A lingering shadow of the captives' horrendous deaths still plagued the place. I tried to call out to my neighbours but my mind didn't obey. Much worse than even Coreopsis.

A sharp psychic blow made me leap to my feet. The psykers got up and returned to their work.

'It's my job to gaze into the Immaterium,' the seer said. 'You have to console the Stormbringer lest its fire should go wild. Tell the novice what to do.'

When his lanky shape disappeared, the boy looked up at me with caution.

'It's mean. We all have to lull it. You see, there're runes. Thousands of them. Trace them with your fingers as if to refresh them. If you do well, your hands will bleed. The voice will speak to you.'

'Where're you from?' I asked. 'A factory like me?'

'Hush, the vulture will hear you.' The girl was livelier than the boy. 'Good that you're older than us. You'll protect us. Especially if you're trained.'

'I'm a much weaker psyker than you.'

'Doesn't matter. We're tired of coping with all that horrid stuff just by ourselves.'

She spoke soulfully with tears in her eyes.

'Scalaria, stop cozying up.' The boy frowned. 'The Iron Seer removes every grown-up who tries to care about us.'

I traced the odd contour of the first rune, and a feeble whisper rustled in my mind, too quiet to understand the words. After a dozen blood started dripping from countless tiny wounds on my fingers, and ominous signs glowed with warp light where blood drops rolled down the surface. An hour passed, and the psychic noise had grown unbearable. Trying to keep as reserved as I could, I went on with the work. The teens were deadly pale, not even able to turn their heads.

I sat down on the ground to finish with the runes at the very bottom. The daemonic voice was screaming of madness, its ramblings all horrifying and enchanting tales from the perverted realm of lies. When the work was over, I flopped to the grass whispering a desperate litany to the Emperor.

'The Seer will hurt you for praying here,' Scalaria said. 'Later, when they lead us down to the quarry.'

After the workday the enginseers showed us to our lodging. The canyon bottom was meters below in the shadow of steep, unnaturally smooth slopes. An only narrow path wound downwards, an ancient crude ladder cut in the rock. We descended one by one to the unwelcoming shelter of stone.

A group of workers was there toiling at one of the walls. I saw two of my factory buddies. The handler was breaking rocks with a mallet, and the sorter was picking the familiar black flints. I smiled at them when they turned their heads.

'The quarry is full of blackstone, the rocks that channel the warp or suppress it,' the psyker girl said when we sat down at a wall. 'I like this place. A bit of headache but the seer cannot hear us around a null outcrop.'

'You know what it is.' I looked at her with suspicion.

'A friend has told me.'

'One of the locals?'

'No. I've seen him in my dreams. You might say I've made it up but I've found his dwelling just by chance. I hid there after the first day here.'

'Might be dangerous.' I shook my head recalling a few lurid cases of possession.

'Not at all. I can tell the freakish distorted entities. Sister Pyralis calls them daemons. But that feels different. I've already told everyone but they failed to get there. Maybe you’ll be lucky. It's so ancient no one alive has seen its first years. There're memories. Countless memories of both people and xenos, floating by as you roam around the place. I've found my own childhood and hid there among the fleeting days of past. He has spoken to me, a voice compassionate but immensely sorrowful.'

I felt uneasy at the mysterious tale but decided not to mess with that right now.

'You've promised to tell your story. So many witches in one place.'

'We're no more hunted witches,' she said proudly. 'We've been chosen for the holy rite of soul binding. Sister Pyralis and her cadre arrived to my homeworld two months ago. My family was sorry to give me away. Even after I set the mansion on fire. Unintentionally, of course.'

She gave out a sad laugh. I smiled at her to cheer her up.

'Hope you won't burn us all now.'

'The ship astropaths taught us a few useful training exercises. We were heading to Holy Terra when the enemies attacked us. The Sisters and the crew fought with great bravery but they couldn't win against the space marines. They killed the astropaths on the spot, forced the sailors to tool for them. One of the Warsmiths has taken the Sisters for himself to shield his camp from any warp damage. He's weak, the seer says. The seer mocks him so often behind his back.'

'So you've been forced to deal with the hellish engine.'

'The strongest of us.' Her eyes filled with tears. 'They've chosen the most promising psykers and fed the rest to the Stormbringer. Soon one of us was completely drained, and the seer ordered him to be thrown in as well. I'm so afraid for Taphius. He's got the same sickness, and the cultists might sacrifice him even tomorrow.'

She patted the boy's head. The sickly psyker was panting in restless sleep, cold sweat all over his face.

'Visions torment him again. Fellows, please pull him closer to the outcrop.'

My buddies had finished their work and sat down to have a well-deserved rest. I got up and waved at them.

'Don't approach them, please.' Scalaria pulled me by the sleeve. 'The Iron Seer forbids us to talk to the other workers and even come closer.'

'The guards don't watch us that carefully, and the null stone distracts his warp-sight,' I objected. 'By the way, there're some cave openings in the walls.'

'Some of us fled through the caves weeks ago. They got lost and died in the dark blind passages.'

'That's why you have to use your mind,' I said firmly. 'When your friend is about to get killed the caves are the only way to rescue him.'

'Why do you know then?' she looked at me with suspicion. 'You're a witch, and not an untrained one. You claim to be a factory girl but ask strange questions, and your mind doesn't feel like theirs.'

'That's irrelevant by now. Let's better think about the future course of action.'

'To wait for the dinner.' She smiled. 'The cultists will bring us briquettes soon. Look, the trench workers are returning.'

'So many wounded.'

'I feel the urge to fight when I see that.' She clenched her fists. 'Tomorrow they will be forced to work nevertheless. Till they fall.'

'Let's do some quiet investigation of the passages. All together, right after the meal.'

The first look at the cave network wasn't much useful. A crazy tangle of corridors and paths, most of them ended in precipices or dead ends. We crawled out of the null zone one by one and cast a few quick looks beyond a part of the wall. The Iron Seer was probably busy with his own stuff so no one had noticed it.

Two more days had passed without any news till my hidden vox came alive in the evening. A short low beep. My crew had just landed. I sent a signal back to them hoping they would locate me quickly.

I spent my next workday in cheerful anticipation of a forthcoming meeting and long-awaited action. Scalaria was puzzled by my sudden burst of vigour but didn't dare to ask questions before we got back to the quarry. Taphius leaned on the rock and clasped his bleeding hands trying to reach the distant passages. The eerie sickness had weakened his body but enhanced his psychic abilities to an outstanding degree.

'You've probably contacted someone,' Scalaria said. 'I heard the beep last night. I've said you're no simple worker.'

'The seer will read it in your mind if I tell you.'

'I've already guessed.' she smiled smugly. 'That means you'll get us outta here.'

Taphius returned to the null zone rubbing his temples.

'There're living souls in the maze. Probably not the traitors. I haven't felt any taint.'

'That means good friends will come to the rescue soon.' Scalaria hugged him. 'Take a nap right now.'

A moment later we jumped at a sudden loud rumble of falling rocks. I leapt to my feet. The cultist enginseers hurried down the stone ladder. One of the handlers crawled bleeding from the pile of pebble and started throwing rocks aside to help the other hapless workers.

'My factory buddies,' I said to the psykers. 'I have to go there.'

'They will punish you if you come closer.' Taphius shook his head. 'You're the weakest psyker among us, and they won't spare you.'

The stone breakers and the sorters had survived the collapse but none was left undamaged. Broken arms and legs, faces cut by falling rocks, heads bashed in. The enginseers ordered a few other workers to pick the wounded up and drag them to a shaded place far from the ladder.

'The Iron Seer will take them for sacrifice tomorrow,' Scalaria whispered. 'Please, please.'

'Wait a bit.' I put a finger to my lips. 'They’ll be here by dark.'

When everyone fell asleep, I felt movement in one of the caves. I crouched closer and looked in. Fluffster stood behind a large rock so no one could notice the lamplight.

'Looks like you fare well enough.' he shook my hand. 'We've contacted the besieged.'

'Whom are the traitors attacking here?'

'My own kind. Joined by a Guard regiment. Architects did their job much better during the Great Crusade. The data fortress holds on still, but the warp storm is quite a problem.'

'The traitors have a daemon engine creating warp unrest. I've been forced to maintain it.'

'That's why I'm here. Magos Tetraodon has given me a relic aiming sensor. You'll have to place it on the engine tomorrow.'

'Will be done. Here's one more problem. My factory buddies have been wounded. Try to evacuate them before the sorcerer uses them for one more foul trick.'

'The ones at the back wall. Fine. There's no medicament shortage in the fortress yet.'

'And one of the psykers is sick as well.'

'No,' Fluffster said suddenly. 'I understand your care for your fellow sufferers but no. The psyker team must be left intact till the task is completed.'

'Hug the ours from me when you're back.' I sighed.

He left as quickly as had appeared. Scalaria and Taphius had woken up and had told the news to the other psykers.

'So we're all leaving?' Scalaria said with hope.

'We have some job for tomorrow.'

'I've promised Taphius your retinue will take him out.' She was about to burst into tears. 'Your kind is as heartless as people describe it.'

'I haven't allowed you to promise anything on my behalf. I've ensured the rescue of the wounded, and we're strong enough to hold on for a single day.'

'Taphius is very sick. You'll be to blame if the seer decides to sacrifice him.'

I didn't answer anything and closed my eyes checking the sensor under the coat lining. The girl's desperate anger had left a bad feeling and a deal of guilt but I needed a cool head to turn the tide on the morrow.


	6. V

Eternity. Uncounted eons fleeting as aether streams tumulted and shifted at the edge of the material realm. Majestic empires flourished under alien suns, and dust covered the forlorn remains of their cities, leaving but withering memories carried away by warp torrents.

Forgotten memories flowed like a river from the depth of past when the Aeldari and the Necrontyr, sorrowful outlivers on the brink of extinction, had been young in a young galaxy. My own remembrances dissolved in its steady current, and my glance slipped forward to the future yet to come.

The spire of a spectral tower was lost in the glimmering aether mist. I was floating up past its multitudinous windows, from epoch to epoch, from eon to eon. Life went on and passed by in every window, as haunting as frail.

A gust of piercing wind burst out through a gaping dark hole in the wall. A window forever ridden of its treasured images. I reached for the wall. I had to come in as something was to be found inside. As if someone wanted me to enter. A soft but warning voice rustled inside my mind when I was about to enter.

'THERE'S NOTHING BEHIND THE OPENING DOOR, THAT MEANS SOMEONE HAS COME FOR YOU, THAT MEANS YOU'RE NOW WANTED-WANTED-WANTED BY SOMEONE...'

I opened my eyes and sat up. The sky was getting grey in the faint light of a new breaking day. Strange dreams had returned, finally something different from the Chaos shrine. The same tower of dreams and memories Scalaria had seen but I wasn't welcome there. Someone has come for me, someone is after me? Imudon was way too petty to be worth a special warning from the mysterious keeper of that place.

The enginseer cultists were examining the back end of the quarry where a massive rock shelf had collapsed right to the place where the wounded workers had spent the night. I hadn't heard the rockfall, too deep in the lucid dream. The cultists took some picts of the rubble pile but they didn't seem even troubled by the accident. Nobody felt sorry for the injured or the sick where only strength and diligence mattered. Fluffster had done his best to lead them out without suspicion.

Morning drizzle turned to rain by noon. Drops evaporated the moment they touched the enchanted runes, and the Stormbringer was enveloped in multicolour steam. The enginseers had hidden in a tent on the slope, so I hoped to stick the sensor to the lower part of the daemonic machine closer to the workday end. The other psykers were slow and drowsy, it took more time than before to ignite a single rune.

During the afternoon break one of the cultists got out of the tent. He climbed the slippery rock and pointed at Taphius.

'Get up and come here. I've got an order from the Lord Seer.'

Scalaria clenched her fists and gave me a furious look.

'Sir, have pity for him. He is recovering now. He will be healthy in a day or two.'

'I've got an order from the Lord Seer, didn’t you hear me well?’

'Please, good sir. Let me talk to the Lord Seer himself, for he could understand our deep grief.'

'The sorcerer doesn't give a damn about your whining, you dumb witch. Shut up your mug and get back to work.'

'You cruel heartless piece of dirty iron.’ Her eyes lit up.

Her burst of anger hurled the cultist a few meters down the slope. She raised both fists above her head, ready to attack anyone who dared to threaten her. The other enginseer ran out, startled by the noise. He helped his buddy to get up, and they both hurried towards the camp. I turned back to the engine and stuck the sensor to its shifting surface with a quick gesture.

'I've told you.' Tears rolled down her cheeks. 'I've told you they'll take him. You're to blame.'

'Don't be that angry,' Taphius sighed. 'The Iron Seer cannot be moved.'

'The inquisitor could have helped us. Could have taken you away.'

'That's what inquisitors are.' The boy smiled sadly.

'Now move away from the Stormbringer.' My voice trembled with remorse. 'Its end is near.'

'Our end is closer,' Scalaria looked at the approaching bulky shape of the Warsmith.

Warsmith Limax strode closer on stiff legs, his aura nervous and full of hidden fear. Both enginseers followed him trying to stay away from Scalaria. He raised his hand solemnly.

'Kneel before His Lordship, you misfits,' one of the enginseers hissed.

We all remained upright. Psykers were valued by our captors, and the Iron Warriors had to put up with the riot if they wanted the warp storm to shield them.

'You shouldn't act that defiantly.' The Warsmith sniffled through the dynamics of his helmet. 'Get back to work. Such behaviour can lead to big problems.'

'That's all you can say.' Scalaria stepped forward. 'The seer has forbidden you to harm us.'

'Get back to work. Such are the rules, and your protest is useless.'

Scalaria hugged the condemned boy.

'I won't move an inch from him. Let the seer deal with his filthy engine by himself.'

Limax sniffled vehemently. An inner struggle between two orders haywired him. Finally, he pointed at the camp.

'I order you to follow me to the headquarters. I'm enabled to take you there by force by Lord Aspersum's personal command.'

I moved aside from the engine that could explode every second. Scalaria looked at me sombrely but walked after Limax holding Taphius by the hand. The other psykers followed reluctantly. We entered the buzzing camp. Legionnaires and cultists were moving around like ants in a troubled anthill, some enjoying a brief rest between siege duties, some carrying ammo and repair parts for the formidable relic cannons.

Their weaponry greatly surpassed the purely defensive turrets of the besieged outpost fortress, so the Iron Warriors only had to wait till the walls finally collapsed under heavy fire. Saboteur teams of cultists ventured out to plant explosives while captive workers were digging trenches and building fortifications for the advancing attack line.

The commanding Chaos Lord's tent was neat and ascetic, adorned by nothing but armour racks and a trophy display at the back wall. Lord Aspersum was contemplating the motley exhibition of marine helmets and xeno weapons, sitting in a crudely forged chair with a flask in his gloved hand. His scarred stubbly face looked content as he was talking to the Iron Seer in a booming, boisterous voice. The sorcerer had hidden in a shaded corner, only his psychic glance peeping out to look at the guests.

'Our pops has been the same wimpy wanker all the way. You remember how he was going out of his way to make us believe he was a tough fellow. Brains with no power won't let him go up the food chain. When I told him so after another worthless pretension, he tore off my arm in a bout of nerd rage.'

He roared with laughter. The Iron Seer chuckled under the vulture mask. Limax stopped before Aspersum's chair, huffing tensely.

'What made you come in here, you milksop?' Lord Aspersum growled. 'You've got enough Skitarii parts to repair your cannon and your transports.'

'I'm sorry, Lord Aspersum,' Limax said in confusion. 'I guess only you and the Lord Seer have the right to deal with this kind of problem.'

'Why the heck have you led this damn witch-riffraff to my tent?' Aspersum clenched his massive fist, and Limax stepped back instinctively.

'The sweet children have decided to go on strike.' The Iron Seer's voice was soft and relaxed. 'You shouldn't worry about them right now, my lord.'

'Let them get a good beating after the workday if you need them alive.' Aspersum frowned.

'The Stormbringer will get its sacrifice,' the Iron Seer crooned. 'But after a while.'

He stood up lazily and approached us, binding our minds with paralyzing haze. Struggling with vertigo, I watched him as he put his bony hand on Scalaria's head. With a soft chuckle he patted her cheeks and hugged her by the shoulders.

'Such a nice girl, my lord. Rebellious and not quite hardworking, but she will play her role in my dearest nephew's downfall, the Architect of Fate tells me. The strongest psyker among them. Such raw might mustn't be marred by the Anathema's touch. I'm planning to make her my apprentice.'

'Your previous mortal apprentice set you on fire.' Aspersum grinned.

'His soul was powerful enough to attract a few Greater Daemons to your forge.'

Scalaria looked at me with tear-filled eyes, unable to move. A wave of psychic disturbance hit the tent, and I found myself down on my knees, blood trickling to the floor from my nose and mouth. The psykers were unconscious on the floor, and their bodies twitched and trembled in agony. Even the Iron Seer was panting, pressing Scalaria to his ornate breastplate.

'What's that?' Limax turned to the entrance.

One of the cultists entered, half-dead with fear.

'I'll rip off your limbs and shove them up your arse if you lie to me,' Aspersum roared at him.

'We're not to blame, my lord. But... the... engine has been...'

He hasn't finished the phrase. Aspersum put him down with a single shot of his wrist-mounted bolter. I rubbed my temples with both hands trying to overcome sickness and creeping unrest.

'Treason!' Lord Aspersum leapt to his feet.

He was now towering over his frozen, wordless subordinate.

'That couldn't have happened otherwise. The pathetic loyalists are unable to harm it.'

'That's probably been a psykout shell,' Warsmith Limax said. 'With due precision they've been more than able to hit a single target.'

'Stop lecturing me, sucker! The cultists responsible for the engine should be put to death immediately, and their mechanical parts sent to the repair teams.'

'Let me take them for my rites later, my lord,' the Iron Seer said. 'With all remaining psykers and a pack of slaves I'll call to the gods for an even mightier storm.'

'Hurry up then,' Aspersum grunted. 'Without the storm smokescreen, they'll be able to hit us. Limax, order your men to retreat from their fire range and turn the protection fields to maximum. Leave no one in the camp but mortal scum to operate the cannons.'

The Iron Seer patted Scalaria on the head and led her to Lord Aspersum's chair.

'I'll leave you the girl for safe communication, my lord. Please be kind to her.'

Scalaria turned back to wave to us as we were leaving the tent. Aspersum grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled a lever on the wall. We heard a creeking sound, and half of the tent floor with Aspersum's chair and arsenal started sliding down the hidden hatch. When we got back to the open air, we heard a loud clang of the hatch closing over the bunker.

I adjusted the collar of my jacket and pressed on the top button. Time for an emergency signal. Fluffster will find us by geolocation before the Iron Seer completes the foulsome rite. Cultists were running to the fire line in frightened haste while the legionnaires had already lined up to march to the quarry.

The Iron Seer raised his hands, and we heard a deafening blast. A shell hit a cultist dugout a few meters to the right but burning shrapnel and debris didn't reach us as if they bumped into an invisible wall.  He chuckled not even slowing down.

We walked after him in grim silence. The younger ones were rubbing their eyes, too scared to even sob, the older psykers clenched their fists. I heard Taphius whisper the last prayer. Blasts came one by one, dazzling flames flashed here and there over the camp, and pillars of thick black smoke rose to the sky over the destroyed dugouts and firing points. The traitors' daemon engines answered, but I doubted they could do real harm to the outpost citadel in a few hours.

The Iron Seer ascended the slippery slope to the smouldering remains of the Stormbringer, gracious and relaxed even under heavy fire. Such was his psychic power that the kinetic shield enveloped us all, and when one of the shells exploded right at the edge of the field, the warp swallowed it with no trace left.

Rainwater had already pooled in the dark maw of the extinguished furnace. The runes had completely faded away, the dead engine's surface no more than burnt, molten metal.

'Get inside, sweethearts.' The sorcerer pointed at the black chasm of the furnace. 'Be good kids and sit there quietly while I'll be praying to the Changer of Ways to bring some change to this deplorable situation.'

Driven by his overpowering psychic pressure, we stepped in like mindless puppets and sat down on the mauled surface. He took a ritual dagger from under his cloak and started chanting, his eerie voice barely human at all, and the spell unwords were captivating and terrifying. Psychic frost appeared on the metal, growing in disturbingly irregular runic patterns. The seer grabbed Taphius by the hand and slit his wrist with a quick slash of the blade. Where his blood splattered over the hoarfrost runes, they lit with low, barely visible warp fire.

He uttered a few more unwords in a feverish high pitch and repeated the ritual wounding with the next psykers in the line. The flame rose higher, sparkling with unnatural colours of the aether. Frozen by the sorcery, I could but watch how the warpfire jumped the edge and spread to the inside. In a moment Taphius was covered in flames. Fluffster, quicker, lest you find us burnt alive, I thought in anxiety as the blade slashed the next psyker's wrist. More and more of us caught fire, the wordless suffering making the daemon engine stir and come alive. Our very souls are burning, good Emperor.

The Iron Seer's voice cut off suddenly, and he staggered and dropped his dagger. A null field of crushing power enveloped the top of the hill. I squeezed my temples in a bout of violent vertigo, the stronger psykers fell face down, coughing, vomiting and crying. The flame died momentarily as if quenched by a fire extinguisher.

Five silhouettes in wet rags leapt up the slopes and attacked the Iron Seer in perfect combat synchrony. None of them wore armour, and they were armed with crude weaponry taken from the cultists, yet they all looked like seasoned fighters, and it was their suppressing presence that had rendered even the marine almost powerless. Only his inhuman biology and towering stature kept him on his feet.

He knocked one of them down to the ground with a precise punch but his arm drooped, paralyzed by the contact with the pariah's body. His daemonic armour jammed, and he couldn't even pull out his pistol. With effort he grabbed another null warrior by the throat and hurled her at the remains of the furnace. Before the others could land a blow, he rushed down the slope, shaking left and right like he was drunk or blind.

One of the blanks took off the hood of her shabby cloak. A tall and rugged warrior, she wore red Aquila tattoos on both shaven sides of her head, and her unwound topknot fell down to her hips. Her eyes had been replaced by signature ruby implants of the dreaded Silent Judges. She made a few quick gestures with both hands, and the young psykers started getting up to their feet.

'This is Sister Pyralis,' one of the psykers whispered to me. 'So good they've escaped from the traitors. She says not to come too close, the traitors have taken their inhibitors.'

'I need to talk to them,' I said. 'Do you know their hand-language well?'

'Not really. Only a few phrases. Wait a while till Sister Aletes recovers from the blow, she's a Novice and is allowed to talk.'

Pyralis watched me with stern attention. I wasn't one of her flock, and I didn't know whether Fluffster had warned her. When I got out of the furnace, she beckoned me over. I recalled the tales of the Excruciatus Silent Judges from my mentor. He had claimed they could detect a psyker in a crowd of people, find a hiding witch in a ruined district and tell truth from lies.

I came closer step by step. Pyralis examined the injuries of both Sisters who'd been hit by the seer and turned to me. The small gestures of her fingers were so swift I couldn't catch them. One of the wounded Sisters stood up, leaning on the arms of her comrades.

'Lady Judge asks you who you are,' she said, and blood trickled from her mouth.

'I'm an Inquisitor of Ordo Hereticus, my lady,' I replied with dignity and pulled the rosette from under the jacket lining.

Pyralis frowned as she went on with her sign language.

'Lady Judge asks you to come close and outstretch your hand.'

I did what she ordered with a shadow of doubt. My hand went numb when Pyralis grabbed it and cut the side of my palm with her trophy combat knife. She licked a drop of my blood and nodded, then continued her wordless speech. I recalled that high-ranking Sisters of Silence had got the same implants for genetic analysis as Space Marines, and Silent Judges had been known to uncover false inquisitors by the smallest genetic samples.

'It's true that you're a member of the Inquisition, my lady. Yet Lady Judge wants clarification for a contradictory fact. You're psychically gifted, but no soulbound psykers of your age from the sector haven't got neither an Interrogator, nor an Inquisitor rank in the last years.'

'That's a complicated question, my lady, and I'd advise you to address it to Lord Platydoras.' I smiled. 'It looks like I've lost my last employment with the Iron Warriors, so please let me get to my retinue.'

Aletes doubled over coughing, her face deadly pale. She pressed the edge of the robe to her mouth, and bright red blood soaked through the dirty cloth. Pyralis made a few brisk signs.

'Now we must follow them,' the interpreter psyker said. 'You'd better go with us. They have the right to detain every unsanctioned psyker of any rank.'

The youths were recovering after the grisly ordeal. Warpfire had left few visible wounds but those burnt by the blaze were still trembling in psychic pain relieved by the null field only. Most of them were bleeding from their slit wrists, and soon Pyralis ordered the unharmed to bind the wounds. I was eager to help, still feeling uneasy about using the teens in the scheme and having left Scalaria with Lord Aspersum. At least I'd rescued them from certain death in the daemon engine.

One of the Sisters separated me from the group and led me closer to Pyralis and her squad. The presence of five strong nulls at once was more than wearing out. Plodia's aura could have never been as excruciating. I marched between two Questora Sisters in reserved silence, not showing them any indecent weakness.

Pyralis asked a few more wordless questions on the way, and the interpreter psyker answered.

'Sacrificed by the traitors, ma'am. Yes, alive, but in enemy captivity, ma'am.'

We walked down the slope, keeping distance from the quarry bunker area, and Pyralis pointed at one of the cave passages. I saw Fluffster looking out of the entrance, accompanied by a few Skitarii.

'I was ready to run to your help, my lady.' He bowed down to the Silent Judge. 'And I'm delighted to find out even a vile sorcerer is no match for the Emperor's Talons.'

Pyralis gave him a slight smile and answered with a long sentence of quick gestures. To my surprise, Fluffster replied in the same manner. After their dialogue had ended, he addressed the waiting psykers:

'Our medics will tend to your injuries in a few minutes. Soon we'll arrive to a safe place within the citadel walls.'

He came over to me and hugged me by the shoulders.

'You've done well. Hope you've learned that nor a great suit of armour nor a big bolter makes an Inquisitor.'

'Lord Platydoras' decision will cause us a few problems,' I whispered into his ear looking at Pyralis talking to the psykers.

'We'll solve that in the fortress. There you'll tell us what you've seen in the camp.'

'Better tell me whether anyone has heard your signal.'

'Quicker than you could have expected.' He half-smiled.

'One more psyker of our team has been left in the camp.'

'She's our eyes and ears there after the Iron Seer has been blinded by the Null Maidens. Funny but the code of their cells within the bunker was relatively easy to break. Then a quick coordinate transmission by the inner channel in the machine version of their sign language. Plodia should have joined their ranks, so that we couldn't have suffered that many consequences of her chattering.'


	7. VI

When we reached a large cave hall five minutes from the entrance, I saw Sister along with two regimental field Medicae fully prepared for the treatment of our wounded. She waved both hands with a joyful smile.

'It's been so dangerous, unarmed in the enemy camp. I've heard the unholy daemon-worshipper was going to burn you alive.'

'The Emperor has delivered us with the help of our cricetid friend and these formidable warriors.' I shook her hand. 'I've missed you all dearly.'

'We landed to the fortress docks as soon as we reached Auriglobus. The outer walls have been greatly damaged by constant fire but the inner citadel is still intact. The only problems were the warp storm and the lack of supplies. A few days ago the traitors have sent a squad of cultists to poison our water tanks. They've gravely wounded a few guardsmen but our Angel has slain them with no effort.'

'Fluffster says you've contacted some Imperial forces.'

'Half of the Excoriators Chapter have already embarked from their present dislocation. An honourable Chapter devoted to the Emperor but unfortunately lacking the true piety of their Black Templar brethren.'

'It doesn't matter if a cat is black or white, so long as it catches mice, an ancient Terran proverb says.' I smirked.

'A certain way to become a Radical if not a warp-consorter,' the Repentia replied stubbornly.

I left her to go on with her medical duties and walked off to get out of the null field. The Silent Sisters were able to suppress it when out of combat, but without their inhibitors it was still too strong to be unnoticed. Fluffster was arguing with Pyralis in a fervent exchange of brisk gestures, and she frowned with disapproval.

They were probably discussing the delicate situation with my employment, and I fortified myself to say goodbye to my retinue and set off for Holy Terra along with my psyker buddies. The very thought of setting foot on the sacred Throneworld was exciting, leaving alone the harrowing blessing of the soul-binding when I would have a rare honour of coming to the holy presence of the Emperor Himself to get a spark of His divine Light to be permanently planted in my soul. I would return to my friends and my owl in a few years anyway, and maybe one of my buddies would agree to join my retinue after the completion of their training.

The underground passage to the citadel was about two miles to the east, its door hidden behind a large stalagmite. A squad of Skitarii had brought a few shuttles to transport us to the data fortress as quickly as possible. I got to the same shuttle with Fluffster hoping to learn more about my future perspectives but he got fully engaged in a binary code conversation with the Skitarii commander.

It took half an hour to reach the cyclopean vaults of the ancient data storage. When we left the docks, the medics, the psykers and the Questorae were sent to the living quarters while Pyralis accompanied me, Fluffster and the commander to the headquarters in the very heart of the citadel.

We passed by unnumbered shelves with millions of memory cards from the distant era of the Great Crusade. Here and there low-ranking tech-priests assisted by servitor scribes were scanning cards and flash drives and saving the data to their dataslates.

The headquarters was a vast hall combined with the cogitator server room, as it was common in most forge world fortresses. Two Skitarii stood on guard at the entrance, and the hall was almost empty save a red-robed tech-priest at the cogitator stall and a few guard officers at a large table in the center. One of them, a colonel clad in the familiar uniform of Uebotian regiments, was reading his dataslate, another, a Commissar with a long sour face, was smoking a rollie.

'Hello, ladies and gentlemen.' The Commissar took the rollie out of his mouth and bowed his head in half-ironical courtesy. 'Commissar Upert Korlick is delighted to welcome you on behalf of Colonel Vonnius Buch and Magos Tetraodon.'

'Nice to meet you, sirs.' I smiled. 'Do you happen to be the husband of my mentor's friend, Lady Dolbona Svoa? I've heard nothing but the best about this dignified trader.'

'What I know for sure, she delivers the best stuff that can be found in this squalid galaxy. But I'll give her your greetings, good lady.'

Colonel Buch raised his head from the screen and nodded.

'You're welcome to the citadel. I'll order the adjutants to bring you brandy, recaff and snacks in no time. Sorry, no tea or coffee to treat you but it's war as you know. The Magos is busy by now but he'll finish the data analysis in about half an hour.'

We took places at the table, and Pyralis made a few signs to Fluffster.

'It wouldn't be polite to continue a private talk here, my lady,' he said. 'So let me be your interpreter while Sister Aletes is recovering in the infirmary. You have already told me Lady Volentia is a manifested psyker, but I'd advise you to report the case to Lord Mentor if you need further explanations. I suggest discussing further strategy right now.'

'Magos Tetraodon is browsing the auspex logs,' said Colonel Buch sipping on his cup. 'I bet the traitors will spend all their forces to finish the outer wall till the allies arrive. The inner walls are quite tough as well, but many of the turret-supporting reactors have been damaged and cannot be fully activated. The energy shield has been weakened as well.'

'At least the sorcerer has to take a good rest for a few days,' Fluffster 'translated' another remark from Pyralis. 'I doubt the girl will willingly do us harm.'

'We have to be aware of other saboteur teams.' Korlick threw the rollie butt to the floor and tore another piece from a regimental propaganda poster.

'Lady Pyralis expresses her disapproval of your drug use.' Fluffster smirked when Korlick took a pinch of dried herbs from his pocket and started rolling another reefer.

'My lady, this is but plain old weed.' Commissar Korlick made a wry face. 'Non-psyonic junk is probably out of your field of investigation.'

'We have to place Skitarii patrols at the main reactor and the supplies storage. How many are there under your command, Chi-Zeta?' Fluffster cricetid raised his voice to make them return to more practical topics.

'Twenty-five,' the Skitarii commander replied in a calm metallic voice. 'We will continue our vigil for the Omnissiah till the traitors are expelled from this place sacred to the Machine God.'

'What about using blackstone?' I asked. 'I've held both kinds of shards in my hands and can confirm they are good for both blocking and amplifying warp influence.'

'Magos Tetraodon has already suggested that,' Buch said. 'As far as I've heard, the thing is kinda fashionable in the Mechanicus circles recently.'

'We used to hide from the Iron Seer's eyes near a null-stone outcrop,' I said. 'The traitors are actively mining the material and selling it on the black market along with tainted metal scraps. The wounded workers have probably told you how we were sorting blackstone shards on the forge moon.'

Magos Tetraodon got up from his cogitator and headed to the table. Not as heavily augmented as many of his kind, he looked relaxed and even content.

'Thank you for entertaining our dear guests, good sirs.' He nodded. 'You're welcome to this wonderful sanctuary of the Machine God, Lady Inquisitor, Lady Judge. Please save some treats for me, Colonel, as long as my systema digestorium hasn't been fully replaced by augmetics. More than a few Magi do claim human body is a perfect kind of natural machinery by itself, and I tend to agree with them.'

'Colonel Buch has just told me you've already found good use for the mysterious blackstone, Magos,' I said.

'Right after I got news about the invasion. I sent the full exploration force to the quarry and in a mere day we've mined enough to close any psychic access into the headquarters, the living quarters and the storages. Now all four of my subordinate Adepts are trying to extract more data on the material, as you've probably seen on the way here.'

'The knowledge stored here is truly priceless. Every bit of data must be used for our future defense.'

'Exactly, my lady. Just imagine the countless opportunities provided by relics uncovered on long forgotten outposts.'

I spent about an hour more discussing the enemy disposition and the data on their camp and heavy weaponry provided by the wounded workers. After the war council had ended, I reunited with the other members of my retinue in the living quarters. Angel was training before leading a raid out to intercept possible saboteurs. Uncle was repairing and cleaning weapons while discussing some military matters with Melitara. Sister had finished her job in the infirmary and was praying before a small altar of the Machine God. I felt relieved at the subtle yet reassuring feeling of my life returning to its normal current. My team had become a real family after the months together, and it was their support and appreciation that gave me energy to struggle on.

'I've got many buddies but only you're my real friends,' I said when we all gathered in a small mess. 'The only ones I can rely upon.'

'Don't overestimate us mere humans.' Fluffster frowned. 'No one but the Emperor can be relied upon for real.'

'You've said not the weaponry makes an inquisitor. The retinue really does. Some reproach me for putting business interests before the needs of other people but not in your case.'

'My lady,' Melitara said. 'I'm not going to admonish you in any sense but no one must ever stand between you and your duty.'

'I guess rules have to serve people, not the opposite.' I shrugged my shoulders. 'Some say I'm too harsh, some say I'm too soft. I've yet to learn that by my own experience.'

'Some used to criticize even the Emperor for abandoning His own children for the sake of His plans.' Fluffster sighed. 'You may find yourself before a hard choice like He faced aboard the Vengeful Spirit.'

'Let's better avoid such topics before bedtime.' Uncle tapped on the table. 'Everything is relatively fine right now.'

'As fine as it can be in this withering world of incense, ash and dust,' Fluffster replied sadly.

When I fell asleep at night, there were no supernatural dreams of places beyond the material realm. Mundane scenes of urban life on Uebotia changed to half-forgotten nostalgic images of the town by the sea. Orange trees bloomed under the salty breeze from the coast, and morning bells called fishermen and sailors to the matins in an old chapel on a white rock high above the restless spring waves.

Suddenly a shy, distant whisper mixed in with the bells and the sound of the sea. I could hardly understand a few words.

'Me... Scalaria...'

I woke up the same second. She was strong enough to reach for my mind from the camp and risky enough to talk to me right in front of her captor. I concentrated on the thin psychic link and let her establish a better connection. A blurred image of the bunker appeared before my eyes, and then I saw Scalaria herself sitting on a little bench at Aspersum's feet, leaning on his knee.

'Glad to hear from you,' I sent to her. 'How is it going in the camp?'

'Lord Aspersum is angry. The seer is deaf and blind after the Sisters gave him a good whacking, and he's now napping in his own tent. So I'm kinda special right now, as the only psyker around.'

'What is Aspersum going to do?'

'I've learned a bit today.' She gave me a sly smile. 'He's quite talkative when no rival is around. Both Warsmiths are going to decimate their cultists by feeding them to the main cannons. But I doubt they succeed without the sorcerer. I'm afraid they will force me to do some nasty stuff.'

'Hope Aspersum doesn't abuse you much.'

'Not at all.' She looked at the snoring warlord with some kind of admiration. 'He's loud and rude but he can be even nice in his own way to those that pose no threat to his power. I've poured him brandy and done divination. He's eager to know more about the future.'

Aspersum stirred in his chair and reached for the flask with his eyes still closed. He couldn't hear the psychic conversation but his dreams had been probably troubled by the unrest in the warp around.

'Thanks for warning us about the cannons, Scalaria. Feel free to call my anytime you need. Soon we'll find a way to release you.'

In the morning the camp of the Iron Warriors was fully veiled by psychic smoke of their possessed cannons. The death cries of hundreds of cultists had created a disturbance of such might my own psyker sight was almost blinded. At the first salvo the outer ramparts trembled as shaken by a powerful earthquake. The generator of the outer shield jammed, ablaze with warp flame.

'They're going to use everything they have to inflict maximum damage before the reinforcements arrive,' said the Colonel looking at the auspexes. 'Or even demolish the fortress before leaving the system to deny the Imperium real victory.'

'I've ordered the Skitarii to retreat to the inner citadel.' Magos Tetraodon nodded. 'The outer defence line is beyond all repair anyway. Our main generator can be destroyed by direct siege only.'

'Or sabotage.' I frowned, recalling my Inquisition manuals. 'The cave system is poorly guarded and lacks a proper map.'

'That's why I'm mostly looking for saboteur teams,' said Tetraodon. 'They might use their psychic senses to find out the exact location. Our stock of blackstone isn't enough to pave the whole building.'

The ritual’s effect continued for a few more crushing salvos that finished the outer walls and even dealt some damage to the inner shield. For the rest of the day the remaining cultists and captives were relocating the cannons and digging new trench lines to focus on the citadel. Worst of all, they finally brought to bear enchanted shells that, though few, could pierce the force field.

In a couple of days they had managed to destroy a few auxiliary data vaults and move closer to the cave passage into the citadel. The legionnaires were away from the reach of our cannons, and they still had a fresh stock of cultists to send to their deaths.

'The shittiest to wage war against,' Fluffster grumbled browsing the logs of a psyber-drone. 'Holed up to the end. Not like their stupid but honest brethren from the Twelfth.'

'Hello there,' Commissar Korlick entered the room with another reefer in his mouth. 'The astropath says he's got a message from the Chapter fleet. For the better as I'll run out of weed soon.'

As I learned in no time, the Iron Seer had recovered enough to notice that as well.

'Listen quicker.' I heard Scalaria's psychic whisper. 'I'm here for a minute while the seer is out to the warp. They want me to find the others. To get in here and bring some virus to the storage. Dunno what, I've just heard.'

'A tech-virus to obliterate the data.' I guessed at once. 'Try to contact Taphius and follow what he tells you. And be brave if you want to say farewell to the traitors.'

'But how...,' she started, then her voice was silenced by warp noise.

'Call the psykers here,' I ordered one of the hall guards. 'We need to find a proper place in the cave to ambush the saboteurs.'

'They're going to leave for sure,' said the Magos. 'If they're ready to destroy the precious knowledge they're after, the reinforcements are very close. The Iron Warriors don't waste their men in battles they can't win.'

'So we can despatch a dozen of your Skitarii.'

'They'll probably launch another mass attack to distract us from the raid,' the Colonel argued. 'We have to leave at least half of them along with my men in case the inner walls are gravely damaged.'

'So ten of the Rangers and my space marine. I bet they will send a few legionnaires to ensure the success.'

'Let me join them,' Fluffster suggested. 'I doubt I can best a marine in close combat but I can be of use as a sharpshooter. I guess you know what to do now.'

I chose Taphius and Intha the interpreter girl who were the strongest psykers in the team to coordinate the operation while the rest should act as a supporting choir. Using untrained unsanctioned psykers was more than risky but I chose to rely on the psychic bond between the survivors. The Sisters should be ready to intervene if anything goes awry.

Taphius was appointed to answer Scalaria's call and direct the saboteurs to the trap while Intha had to keep in touch with Angel and the Rangers. The Iron Seer was still a real pain in the ass. He'd recovered quicker than I hoped but his concentration was likely weak enough to lose the connection from time to time.

'Open your mind and let me see through your eyes, Taphius.' I sat back and grabbed a large chunk of warp-amplifying blackstone.

The choir's joint power helped me to slip in, though violent jamming muffled half of the sounds. Through creepy whispers and distant screams, I finally heard Scalaria's voice.

'Lord Seer, it's still hard to reach them. A faint shadow, no more.'

'I'll check that once I have a rest after the reconnaissance, sugar.' The Iron Seer's whisper was as weak as if he was at his last breath. 'You have to please us if you want to get to Medrengard with me.'

'Are you mad, boy?' Aspersum bellowed in the background. 'Your slackers are little worthier than cultist scum. How do you ever dare to suggest sending my siege terminators or obliterators to this dirty hole?'

'My company is down to a hundred men after the previous captain, my lord,' Limax answered stubbornly. 'I cannot replenish the ranks unlike you.'

I felt the Iron Seer's presence fading. Taphius uttered the first brief instruction looking at the auspex screen. Twelve green dots were moving to a crossroads next to the hidden entrance.

'The seer has promised to watch over the break-in itself,' Scalaria whispered. 'He said he'd use me as live fodder for his bound daemons if I ever dare to betray him.'

'That's why I've told you to be brave,' I sent through Taphius.

I disconnected for a while to respite from the overwhelming warp noise. They would teach me how to do it better once I got to Holy Terra. The choir called to me again before I could get fully aware and ready.

Images so bright and sharp they were painful to look at. A raiding party of three legionnaires and a dozen cultists, a nauseating psychic cloud of taint lingering over their grotesque shapes. Scalaria was in the rear, her eyes covered with a dirty band, her aura all suffering and fear. I wondered what had happened to her on that day so she'd completely lost her cheerful demeanour.

I insisted on sending two of the Questorae to the cave to sever the Iron Seer's psychic leash in case he drew out the bluff. Clad in Guard armour and armed with Mechanicus weapons, they should attack the raiders from a side passage.

The auspexes finally located the saboteurs close to the crossroads. Intha trembled with fatigue, doing her best to report to the ambush party. Taphius gave out the last instructions and fainted, his face deadly pale and wet with sweat. I was still in touch with the choir when the Iron Seer's croon murmured in my head again.

'You've lost him, honey. Try better. Do you think my weakness allows you to be a slacker?'

'It hurts, my lord. The blackstone...'

'I feel someone else's presence around you. I'm not excited by the idea of your possible double loyalty.'

The null field fell over the party and severed the connection. I wiped my forehead and closed my eyes. The skirmish ended even quicker than planned. My vox bead came alive minutes after the parties had clashed.

'It's over, Volentia. One of the Questorae has taken a few bullets in her shoulder and side, four of Skitarii had lost some of their limbs.' Fluffster's voice was too sour for the victory we'd won.

'Have you rescued Scalaria?'

'We had but... She didn't dare to tell you something before the raid.'

With a triumphant feeling of the campaign obviously won yet quite disturbed by Fluffster's warning, I led my retinue out to the docks to meet the shuttles with the ambush party. Angel got out first, his armour and power claws black with drying blood. The Skitarii marched on in mechanical synchrony, wounded and whole alike. Fluffster brought the rear, flanked by the Questorae, with unconscious Scalaria in his arms. I reached out to remove the band but Fluffster stopped me.

'Better not. The seer has burned her eyes out in a mind-awakening ritual. You've been luckier on that very day.'

He stopped on seeing Pyralis entering the docks.

'Poor girl.' She shook her head, and Fluffster translated her signs. 'But anyway most of her kind lose sight once they get through the soul-binding. She's going to be an astropath, I'm almost sure. A talent visible even by now.'

'They're all good and capable,' I said. 'I'd be happy to employ any of them in a few years.'

She frowned and made a few brisk gestures. Fluffster replied not even bothering to explain them to me.

'What's up now?' I tugged him by the elbow.

'Sister Pyralis suggests you to pack your stuff and let Lady Melitara transfer us to the closest Malleus fortress where we can find another Black Ship to board.'

'We're going to Holy Terra right after the siege.' I sighed with relief.

'I'm afraid I disappoint you. You'll probably see Terra one day but we have other work waiting for us now.'

The great armada was leaving the system. They had left but even rows of trenches and dirty remains of their camp. The involuntary dwellers of the old citadel walked out to the open air clear of cannon smoke and warp mist. Factory captives had been left, wounded and starving, in the quarry and the camp as the traitors didn’t care a damn about those who weren’t of use anymore. We gathered them in the citadel waiting for the allies to arrive.

On the first night after the siege had ended I looked up as if to find the tiny star of our vessel coming out of its hiding on the other side of the planet. Among the countless stars and planets there was one invisible to the naked eye but shining brighter than any of them. The world where everything has started and everything will end.


	8. Epilogue

The Naval Tower of the Somnus Citadel on Luna was brightly lit as numerous captains of the Silent Sisterhood's Black Ships had returned to the order headquarters for their annual report. Led by Ernophtora Chrysura, the Mistress of the Black Fleet, Witchseekers and Aquilai Astra had gathered in the solemnly decorated great hall. Fleetmistress Chrysura and Loryma Callos, the Nemesis Praxia, took their high seats on both sides of the Knight-Commander's vacant throne, surrounded by the illustrious circle of Knights-Centurae, Oblivion Knights and Silent Judges. According to the ancient customs, heavy gorgets covered their faces up to the eyes which gave the warriors a stern aquiline look befitting their redoubtable service.

Though the hall was full of armour-clad Null Maidens, no noise but the sound of steps could be heard as the Oath of Tranquility was the most sacred of the Sisterhood's vows. One by one veteran Sisters entered the hall at the head of their cadres and presented their wordless report to the Superiors. Some gave accounts of mysterious accidents and perilous ventures they'd gone through, some reported the names of the martyrs fallen in battles against the vile forces of Chaos and xenos or Sisters missing in action. Though few, young blank girls were presented to the Nemesis Praxia who assigned them to senior Sisters for training.

'Silent Judge Pyralis Ceropsina, captain of the Quiet Vigil, and her Vermilion Sables Excruciatus cadre,' the Fleetmistress' Proloquor announced with broad gestures of BattleMark to be seen by every warrior in the hall.

Pyralis Ceropsina passed between the rows of Null Maidens, dressed in a newly crafted red coat of her rank, her face mournful for the gravity of her loss. Her warriors followed her to greet the Superiors and stay present as the truthful witnesses of her account.

'May the Emperor's gaze be upon you, Lady Fleetmistress, Lady Nemesis Praxia.' She bowed her head with bitter solemnity. 'My report is not the one of glory, yet one of failure. I have lost the Quiet Vigil and all of its crew to the force of a Traitor Legion. The betrayers have massacred most of the psykers collected in the Botian sector. I am ready to take any penance imposed by the Superiors to atone for the dereliction of my duties. The Questorae as well as the Sister-Novice acted with great bravery and dignity even in captivity and during the escape, so let me alone take the responsibility for the loss.'

'We have sent your cadre for a special investigation as the Botian sector along with a few more sectors of the Segmentum Obscurus got special attention from the Lords of Terra in connection with the oncoming Black Crusade.' Chrysura's glance was harsh. 'Yet nothing has been found yet, moreover, most that depended on you are dead.'

'I have come across an unsanctioned psyker appointed to the Inquisition ranks by High Inquisitor Platydoras, my lady. Unexpected interference prevented me to bring her along though.'

'Who ever dares to stand between the Sisterhood and psykers they are to find and gather, Sister-Judge?' Claw-blades on Fleetmistress Chrysura’s gauntlets clanged as she expressed her indignation.

'Lord Mentor and his party, my lady.'

'The tacit warning.' A few subtle gestures of Loryma Callos' hand made the veteran Knights freeze in awe.

'Again.' Chrysura adjusted her fur-lined cloak as if a gust of icy wind burst into the great hall.

She made quick signs to the Proloquor, and she came forward raising both hands for another announcement.

'Oblivion Knight Ephestia Interpunctella of the Steel Owls cadre, the Mistress of the Black Fleet summons you for a special assignment.'

One of the Knights walked out of the warrior ranks and headed to the thrones. Still quite young, she bore battle scars on her shaven scalp marked by the holy emblem. Her gaze was earnest and strict even when she greeted the Superiors with a respectful bow.

'Sister-Knight, you are known to have strong family ties with both Luna and Uebotia.' Chrysura addressed the Null-maiden with swift, flickering moves of her blades. 'Proceed to the residence of your foster parents to find a place in their retinue. Many of the first Inquisitors came from our glorious order, and your work in the ranks of the Witch Hunters can assist us to counter the menace.'

She showed the last ominous sign with a violent swing of the claws. Ephestia nodded abruptly, and the end of her purple topknot fell down to her breastplate.

'I am ready to serve the Sisterhood and the Imperium, my lady. But my mother is still out of reach for more than a month after the Black Legion broke into the docks of an Ordo Hereticus outpost at the sector border. My father's ship along with a few inquisitorial escorts is pursuing the traitors to no avail.'

'Let the Emperor's light guide his way.' Chrysura frowned. 'Follow his fleet then, as the whole matter is likely to be connected with the tacit warning.'

Callos made a subtle sign, and Pyralis Ceropsina came closer.

'I am ready to accept my penance, my lady.'

'Ill omens herald the Pirate King's arrival. Trader captains gather under his banners, and witches seek his attention to assist him in his quest for some relic of unspoken might. Take your Questora cadre for you will have to embark to the frontiers of Abilene to stand in his way.'


End file.
